Being Them
by Ramzes
Summary: Well, the title says it all. This is my take of the HP characters - their actions, thoughts, secrets. Basically, all these things that define their characters. Previously Nine Secrets of the HP Characters.
1. Teddy Lupin

**Disclaimer: Do I need to say that I don't own anything?**

**Chapter 1**

**Teddy Lupin**

When he was little, he could not understand what the strangers, who, after seeing him, started sighing, patting his head and saying, "The poor dear, he must miss his parents so much" meant. That was his first indication that he was supposed to miss his parents. And yet, even after realizing that he _should_ miss them, he couldn't. He had never known them, so how could he miss them? He was a little ashamed of that and for a while he tried, he really tried to miss his parents.

It didn't work, though.

And yet, he still wishes that he could meet them.

He was very little, when Victoire was born, and he didn't like her. He doesn't remember it himself. But Aunt Ginny always says that he didn't like her. When he saw the tiny being lying in its crib, he realized with disappointment that it didn't have a thick, soft pelt like the kitten that he was still trying to convince his Grandma to buy him. It didn't wiggle its ears like the black dog that Teddy liked so much – Uncle Harry's black dog, Padfoot. It didn't even look at Teddy, when he peeked in the cot curiously, and Teddy felt very insulted. _Everyone_ loved him! Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny took him on their brooms, Uncle George gave him funny presents, Aunt Hermione read him fairy-tales, Grandma Molly always fed him pastries and everybody laughed, when his face and hair changed – he was too young to change them by his own will – and now this new thing did not even look at him! _But wait!_ That was it. Maybe this thing was some sort of new stuffed toy? A very, very lazy stuffed toy. He poked it to check its softness, and then toppled over, when the creature proved it was alive by opening its eyes and giving the most piercing wail that Teddy had ever had the misfortune to hear. "No!" Aunt Ginny said. "Bad Teddy!" she added and bent over the crib to check on the thing that wouldn't stop wailing. "A stuffed toy that cries!" Teddy yelled disgusted. "I don't like it. Send it back."

At least, Aunt Ginny says he did.

When he first hears that story, when he is fifteen, he can't believe it. Oh, he knows that Aunt Ginny never lies. He still can't believe it, though. _Not liking Victoire? Impossible! _He likes Victoire. He likes her a lot. He likes her even when she makes his life hell with her sudden change of moods and the constant hostility that she, for some reason, seemed to harbor each time when she sees him studying with Melanie Gordon, or Janet Wilkins, or Deborah Cunningham. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone and _especially_ not to her.

This is his most guarded secret, after all.

When he looks back into his past, he can't help but smile at the realization that the words 'I can't imagine my life without you' that so many people in love tend to say to each other, are literally true in his case: he couldn't imagine his life without her, because, in fact, he had never _had_ a life without her. At least, not a life that he can remember.

Teddy is four. Victoire still haven't turned three. He enters the room and sees her – talking at full speed to her Grandma, while Aunt Fleur is plaiting her hair. She sees him and gives an excited shriek. "Teddy! Teddy!" Her mother tries to calm her down, but Victoire wriggles out of her hands and runs over to him, her hair half plaited and half falling wildly.

In this moment, he feels important.

Teddy is eight. Victoire is seven and they play in the garden of the Burrow, chasing gnomes and fireflies. Teddy is tired, he wants to go inside. Victoire is restless, though. "Aren't you tired?" he asks hopefully. Unfortunately, she answers petulantly, "No!"

For a moment, he considers the possibility to go back to the house without her, but then reluctantly dismisses it. While they are outside, she is under his protection and he can't leave without her, no matter how much he wants to. He tries another way to convince her, "Hey, Vickie? It's getting dark. I've that there is a big dog roaming outside in the darkness. Aren't you afraid of it?"

She smiles at him. She looks perfectly calm. "No," she says, matter-of-factly.

He gulps. "But why not?"

She takes his hand, trustingly. "You are so big," she says in the same calm voice. "You won't let the dog take me."

At that moment, he feels grown-up.

Teddy is eighteen. Victoire is sixteen. They sit in the Gryffindor common room and Victoire examines critically her friend's Aimee's Transfiguration notes. Teddy examines Victoire. Not looking at him, she reaches for his hand and squeezes it. Teddy smiles. He is up for a little snogging session, but right now, Victoire isn't in the mood. She needs to hand her Transfiguration essay tomorrow morning and Teddy is here just for moral support. In a vain attempt to stay awake, he looks around and sees something – something rare! He jumps up and sweeps Victoire up. Startled, she looks at him and the question that has started forming dies on her lips, when he carries her to the window, so she, too, can see the falling star and make a wish. When the star falls, she looks at him and kisses him gently. "Thank you," she whispers.

At that moment, he feels thoroughly happy.

Teddy is twenty-two. Victoire is twenty-one and she looks like she's just run a marathon – covered in sweat, her hair sticking to her face, her breathing hurried, her lips white and bloodied in the places where she had bitten them.

She looks deliriously happy.

He takes her hand and kisses her forehead, before looking, for a first time, at the small being that lies next to her. It looks curiously at him, blinking, and against the white pillow his hair shines green, and red, and blond, and chestnut…

"It's a boy," Victoire whispers.

"So I heard," Teddy whispers back. He has held babies before, of course – having grown as an honorary member of the Weasley family, it would be hard not to, - but he had never felt such a fear to touch one. This little boy looks so tiny, so fragile. And it depends thoroughly on them. On Victoire. On him.

He has never thought it possible that he could feel such love and such fear at the same time.

At that moment, they make a man of him. Victoire and the baby make him. They are so young. They have a home of their own, they work and they support themselves. But they have had no responsibilities, except to one another. Now, now Teddy realizes that they have been just playing a family, just like they played Aurors when they were little.

Now, they _are_ a family.

Teddy hated James Potter. For a while. After James was born, no one paid attention to the little Metamorphmagus anymore – everybody was cooing over the stupid baby or talking about it! Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had no time for Teddy and even when they did, they were never truly there – they were always listening for the sounds coming from the nursery and when the baby started crying, they _always_ stopped playing with Teddy and went upstairs. And God, did James cry!

Teddy even made a list of all the things that James couldn't do. 'Can't walk. Can't talk. Can't play Quidditch. Can't make his bed. Can't eat by himself. Can't go to the toilet. Can't read. Can't wash himself.' What angered him the most was the fact that despite all those horrible incapacities, James was still at the receiving end of anyone's care! Why did everybody like James so much?

Years later, James Potter reads the list, smiling. Teddy catches him red-handed. One would expect that he would be ashamed, but no, not James Potter. He smiles even more broadly. "You know, I can play Quidditch," he says. "You were the one who trained me."

Teddy rolls his eyes. "Unfortunately, one thing that I never managed to teach you is bathing on a regular basis. Go and take a bath. The dinner is in half an hour. Oh, and you can give Alan one, too."

James' face falls. "I already gave him a Quidditch lesson!" he protests.

"Yes, and you gave him sugar, too, I strongly suspect."

James' face is completely innocent, but Teddy can't be fooled that easily. Not after all those years of practice. "Yes, so I thought. Give him a bath, James. It goes with the Quidditch practice."

James leaves the room, the picture of misery. Teddy can't blame him – he, too, would have been horrified, if he had faced the prospect to give a bath to a little Metamorphmagus who hates baths. A little Metamorphmagus, who is on sugar-high.

He takes the list and smiles, reading it. He remembers how much he hated James. But then, it is not so unusual for kids to hate the new baby in the family. And the Potters _are_ Teddy's family.

Speaking of family, Teddy quite likes his Malfoy relatives, although he rarely talks about them to the Weasleys and takes care to _never_ mention them in front of Uncle Ron. He likes Aunt Narcissa and he _especially_ likes Astoria. She is funny and sweet, and really good to him, and she saved him once, when he had run away from Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny. He sort of likes Draco too – he can be really amusing at times. He _strongly_ dislikes Lucius and doesn't miss a chance to do a trick to him – something that is quite easy, given the fact that Holey Uncle George is always willing to donate his products for the cause. Once, after Lucius has started growing hair _everywhere_ right at the dinner table, Teddy barely contains his laughter. He happened to meet Astoria's eyes and although she tries to give him a stern look, he has the feeling that she, too, was having troubles concealing her mirth.

Well, he has always known that Astoria is a woman of fine tastes.

Teddy will never tell it to anyone, but when he left for his first year at Hogwarts, he was terrified. What if they forgot about him now, when he wouldn't be there anymore? True, they all loved him, but he was neither a Weasley, nor a Potter. They wouldn't see him every day; maybe they would realize that they don't need him, after all?

That was his most lonely secret – a secret that he shared only with the owl that came the next morning, almost staggering in the air under the weight of a parcel of cookies and three pieces of cake, a piece of seemingly blank parchment that Teddy recognized immediately. "Don't tell your Aunt Ginny about this!" he read on its packet, a letter from Ginny, telling him that they were supposed to wait, until he owled them what House he had been Sorted in to write him back, but she just couldn't resist, because she still couldn't get used to his absence, and some scrawls that Teddy supposed to be James' insistence that Teddy shouldn't forget to come back for Christmas, because he had promised him that he would come…

He has heard many stories about how nervous men got, when they proposed. He has not been nervous, but then, he has never really proposed...

The sound of the sea mingles with the music. Teddy breathes the salty air with delight and thinks that it is a perfect night for a party. Victoire wears a green dress, her hair is thrown over her left shoulder and she is positively beaming. This night, she turns twenty and the party is for her.

Teddy goes to her and wraps an arm around her. She turns her head and smiles broadly at him.

"A wonderful night," she says.

"Yes," Teddy agrees. "Victoire, don't you think it's time for us to set a date for the wedding?"

"Oh," she says slowly. She doesn't look surprised. Probably, she _isn't_ surprised. "Of course. September will be perfect for me."

That is his most delightful secret – that on important things, like that, they don't need to talk in order to know what the other one is thinking.

And that is thanks to the Potters and Weasleys, who took him in their family. They have given him so much and they still do. They give him a feeling that he belongs. Also, they were the ones who taught him to be proud of his parents.

Teddy acknowledges that is was not an easy task.

When he was little, sometimes he resented his parents a little for leaving him behind. Now, he is a grown-up. And he knows that they had tried to make the world a better place – for him. He would do the same for his kids. He only hopes that he will never _have_ to do it.

And they didn't leave him _behind_. They left him with the people that they knew would give him love. Happiness. A family. And that is more than enough.

6


	2. Victoire Weasley

**Disclaimer: I won't write one, because I don't like to be reminded that I don't own anything.**

**Thank you, my dear readers, for your lovely reviews. They really made me very happy.**

**Chapter 2**

**Victoire**

She doesn't like her birthday. Yes, unlike most children, Victoire Weasley hated her birthday. Everybody was pretending to be happy and she hated that. No, it was worse – they were not pretending, they were really _trying_ to be happy, for her, and that made it worse, because they never quite managed it. She knew that they were thinking about her Uncle Fred, about Teddy's parents, about that kid in her Aunt's year, Colin Creevey, and all others who had died in the war, many of them _on the exact date of her birthday_, and these memories spoiled their pleasure of her birthday. And that spoiled _her_ pleasure.

As the years passed, the grief started fading. There were smiles that were not fake, there was laughter that burst out spontaneously, there was genuine joy. Now, it is only happiness with an occasional touch of sadness.

Victoire still doesn't like her birthday, though. She vividly remembers how guilty she felt as a child – for being born on that date, for being alive, when all those people were dead, for wanting her family to be happy for her, when they were so sad for Uncle Fred and the others.

That is her most stupid secret. Because there is nothing to feel guilty about, just for being born, is it? It isn't her fault that she was born on her birthday.

Still, up to that day, she can't get rid of that feeling.

Victoire loves her siblings. Of course she loves them – it is impossible not to. They are so sweet and funny. She vaguely remembers Dominique being born, but Louis' birth, eleven months later, is clearer. She remembers peeking in his crib and touching him very cautiously, and him opening his eyes and giving a small meowing sound. She remembers poking the kids and watching curiously as they started moving their heads and searching the room for her. They were more _fun_ to play with than her dolls. That's how she had always thought about them – her personal dolls, her most beloved and sometimes very unruly toys. And she was the boss. She _loved_ being the boss.

Years later, Louis smirks at her, when she catches him roaming the castle of Hogwarts after curfew and demands of him to go back to his dormitory _immediately_. She reaches for her wand, but the little git is quicker and catches it before her. "I do not obey your commands anymore, Your Grace," he drawls sarcastically. "Your reign is over."

She angrily tries to give him a slap on his head, but he seizes her hand and squeezes it. Victoire indignantly realizes that he is stronger than her and without her wand, she doesn't have the upper hand anymore. And, which is worse, the perspectives are that Louis will keep growing bigger and stronger and she will keep getting smaller – at least compared to him.

Years later, she secretly keeps hoping that there will be a miracle that will let her give Louis a spanking for being such a git, just once more.

Her very best friend has always been Teddy. They do everything together – reading, playing, resting. Of course, they fight every once in a while, but it is only a harmless squabble compared to the great quarrel they have when he starts talking about his forthcoming first year at Hogwarts. Secretly, Victoire is not only angry, but very insulted at her supposed best friend. Not because of receiving the letter, but because of being so _happy_ at the prospect of going to Hogwarts and leaving her behind. Did all their years as best mates count for _nothing_? He should be begging to be allowed to stay at home for another year and then they could go at Hogwarts together! But no, he kept talking about his books, about Hagrid, about the adventures that he would have and the friends that he would make and Victoire barely kept herself from crying. He would not miss her half as much as she would miss him.

She turns out to be right, of course, and there will be years before she can admit that it is not really Teddy's fault – he meets new people and does new exciting things, while she stays home and sulks, and misses him. Still, he cannot help but feel that his life is changed, just as she cannot help but feel that hers is the same, only with a big gap wide open on the place where Teddy has been.

She knows that out of all his nieces and nephews, she is Uncle George's favorite. She doesn't know why, but it is a fact. Oh, he is always careful not to make it obvious, but she can feel that his gaze is more tender when it falls on her, that he is ready to let her get away with more stuff than the others, that he is always more eager to babysit her than the others. Without asking, she knows that she is the only kid to whom he talks about Fred. He doesn't like mentioning his twin's name even in front of his own children, but when they are alone, he loves talking to her how funny and loyal Fred has been. She is Uncle George's girl. Neither he, nor she would ever say it aloud, but they both know it

It is not about love. Victoire knows that he loves her siblings and her cousins just as much as he loves her. But she is his favorite. It is not about love at all and yet, in a strange way it is.

Years later, when she is a grown up, she understands him better. And she is grateful for being his favorite, because just as easily, she could be his least favorite family member. And she very much prefers being his favorite.

She would never talk about that special bond between the two of them and neither would he. They both don't want to hurt the other kids by letting them know about that, but they will treasure that bond. Always.

She has always thought that Teddy and she would end up together. Even when he left her alone on her first ride on the Hogwarts Express, she was still convinced that in the end, they would be together. Even when she saw him snogging all these other girls, she thought it would pass and he would look around and see her. So, she waited.

Now, she watches in horrified fascination as Dominique's lips land on those of one of the boys in her year. Victoire doesn't even try to remember his name, she is too shocked by the sudden revelation that if she keeps waiting for Teddy to notice her, she might just end her life as a bitter spinster old aunt. Merlin, even her _baby sister_, her doll, her favorite toy has been kissed before her.

This is the day when she comes up with the Get Teddy Plan.

Point one in it was clear: Quidditch. If she wants to win Teddy, she must be sure that this awful Janet Wilkins isn't standing in the way. And since she is with Teddy practically _all the time_, Victoire has only one chance and she grabs it.

She's always been good at Quidditch, although she isn't fond of the game. Teddy lives for it. He is a star Chaser of the Gryffindor team. Janet, on the other side, would never go near the pitch out of fear that a random bludger might break her nail or something. So, Victoire goes to the tryouts and wins the position of a Beater. Yes, a Beater. The captain could not believe his eyes and then he said that she would be their secret weapon, because no one would believe that girl as beautiful and fragile as her could have her amazing aim.

At hearing this, Victoire smirks. _Finally, some use of this beauty_, she thinks, for she has never seen much use of her looks before.

She is amazed, when she discovers that Quidditch actually fascinates her. She loves the rhythm, the wind in her hair, the feeling of being part of a team.

She also likes imagining that the bludger she is hitting wears the face of Janet Wilkins or sometimes – Teddy Lupin. She enjoys beating them into bloody pulp and if that fact makes her ferocious, so be it.

She is the happiest girl in England, when Teddy finally tells her that he likes her, that he wants to be with her. And that makes it worse, when he starts withdrawing.

Victoire doesn't understand. What's wrong? What did she do wrong? Why doesn't he want her anymore?

She asks him that question and he looks uncomfortable, mumbling something about 'not being sure' and 'maybe it was a mistake'. She won't let him get away with it, though. "Teddy, I thought we were being honest here. We've always been honest with each other. What's wrong?"

He bows his head and finally spills it out.

Victoire is amazed to hear that he isn't sure that it is what she wants. How can she be sure that it is he who she wants, when she's never had anyone else? She's never gone to dates, she's never kissed another guy, she's never made romantic moonlight walks with other boys. How does she know that Teddy is the right one for her? He doesn't want to be an obstacle, if she happens to find someone else who is the right one for her. Someone who isn't him.

Victoire can't believe her ears. Now, she understands what her aunts, her mother, her grandmothers mean, when they shake their heads and say 'Men'. Only, they say it with some sort of sad, loving resignation. Victoire does not feel any resignation and she certainly _does not love Teddy Lupin_ at that moment. She is furious. Deeply, thoroughly furious. So, that is how he interprets her patience? Her waiting for him? She hasn't had anyone else, because she never wanted anyone else. Merlin knows that she's had plenty of choices. She rejected them all, because she knew what she wanted and now Teddy dares to say that she doesn't?

She leaps to her feet and runs upstairs to her dormitory. She comes back a minute later with a piece of parchment in her hand. Teddy looks at her questioningly.

"Talk," she says curtly. "What do you want me to do? Do you have any numbers in your mind? How many guys am I supposed to be with? How many snoggings, kisses, romantic walks and goings to Hogsmeade and so on am I supposed to have, before you consider me competent enough to know what I think and feel? Come on, say it, so I can write it down."

"I don't want you to be with any other guy!"

"Then what do you want?"

He doesn't know the answer, so he snatches her parchment out of her hands, throws it on the floor and angrily walks away. Victoire only shakes her head in amazement.

A few days later, she talks with Stephen Carson. He is a good mate and the two of them, along with Naomi White, has always been a pack ever since their Sorting in Gryffindor.

They talk about their holiday now, while they are going back from the library, Victoire holding her injured hand in front of her – she hurt it two days ago. Naomi says she's going to travel to Italy with her parents and see the famous statue of David. Victoire asks who David is and throws her head back ad laughs, when she hears that he is in the nude. A lock of long silver-blond hair falls across her face, but she can't remove it, because her good hand is full of books. Stephen reaches out and smoothes it, when the sky above them breaks and Zeus the Thunderer himself marches to them, impersonated by no other than Teddy Lupin.

"What the hell is going on here?" he yells and pushes Stephen's hand aside.

"I just – "

"Oh, I know you just! Stay away from her, if you want to see your next birthday!"

"Teddy, stop it!" she says angrily.

"You, be quiet! I am not done with you!"

"But I am done with you!" she says haughtily. "Go away, Teddy."

"The hell I will!"

Then, he does something that she will always remember: he sweeps her up into his arms and carries her along the corridor. Only, it is not in a romantic way, like a bride. It is more like a luggage: he throws her over his shoulder and starts walking.

Later, she pretends that she planned it all, when in truth, she's been as surprised as everyone else.

Deep down, she knows that she would have never given a chance to Scorpius Malfoy, if Teddy hadn't asked her to watch over the boy during his first year at Hogwarts, which would surely be a hard one, given the dark reputation of his family and so on.

Victoire likes to think of herself as a good person and yet, she knows that she's been too influenced by the well-known tales of Lucius Malfoy slipping a dangerous diary to her Aunt Ginny, of Draco Malfoy insulting her grandparents, of Draco Malfoy calling her Aunt Hermione the M-word to give the blond boy a second glance. And then she would have been robbed – robbed of Scorpius' kindness and shyness, robbed of her childrens' beloved babysitter, robbed of the sight of him silently adoring her cousin Rose who has no idea that he fancies her as more than a friend.

That is her most shameful secret – that she isn't as good person as she wants to be.

But Teddy knows that and he loves her anyway. That makes her happy.

Victoire is proud of her family – every single member of it. And yet, there are three women, who she admires most.

The first one is Aunt Hermione. The reasons for this are too many and well-known. You cannot _not_ admire Aunt Hermione.

The second one is her Grandma – for choosing the hardest job of all, being a mother of seven and doing such a wonderful job with them, for creating such a great and happy family and yet being witch that has been skilled enough to kill Bellatrix Lestrange. For losing so much and yet managing to cope and keep your faith and good will intact.

The third one is her Grandmere. One would think it strange – Apolline Delacour is not as famous as Aunt Hermione. She is not a hero, like Grandma. And yet, Victoire admires her. You must be part-unhuman to understand. Victoire remembers the whispers that she has heard as a child – that she is not a human, that maybe she cannot be fully trusted. Even now, she sometimes hear them, especially when she goes out with Teddy and the children and there are people who whisper that she's charmed Teddy with her Veela tricks. She can only imagine how much more difficult it must have been for her Grandmere when she's been a young woman – even more beautiful than her, a half-Veela. And yet, she has managed. She has a good life, a loving husband, a good family. The little half-Veela has become Madame Delacour – a name that is always spoken with respect.

So she cannot not be proud of belonging to a family like hers and being related to women like them.

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**A. N. Be nice and review!**

7


	3. James Sirius Potter

**Disclaimer: Look at the previous chapter.**

**Thank you again for your reviews. You really made my day.**

**Chapter 3**

**James Sirius Potter**

Out of all his relatives, Teddy – who, technically, isn't even a relative – is the one who can make him feel most protected. Maybe, James reflects, it's due to one of his very first memories – he is three or four years old and dead clumsy, jumping up and down, while every hole and bulge on his way seems to find him, when he isn't watching. Mummy tries to hold him by the hand, but she is so much taller – soon, she gets tired and lets him walk by himself. James very much prefers Teddy holding him – he is just the right height and he never lets go off James' hand, so even when James falls, he feels that he's clutching at something big, secure and friendly.

Teddy is his protector, and James' relationship with Al is something entirely different. He feels that it's his duty to torment Al. After all, what else does he have him for? For protecting him from dark wizards? He would have protected him, of course, but that's the problem – there just _aren't_ any dark wizards anymore. His Dad has taken care about the Big Bad Guy and then Minister Shacklebolt and his people had done the rest. Still, there are a few dark wizards and witches – there always are, - but nothing that Al himself can't deal with. Although James would never confess it, he thinks that Al is quite good in taking care of himself. He should be – after all, he's James' brother. And he's been given to James to torment, and James exploits that right in full measure, along with his best friend, who also happened to be his cousin – Fred Weasley.

They never torment Al in _his_ best friend's – aka Rose Weasley's – presence, though. Not that they are afraid of her, because she has more brains than she should be given, all of them spreading with resourcefulness and can be quite... vicious, when she wants to. And certainly not because in her first year she's better than both of them second-years and lethal with the wand. No, it isn't that at all. They just love their cousin too much to traumatize her by playing pranks on Al in her presence. And the fact that they never play _any_ pranks on her is just a coincidence. Yeah. A coincidence.

When he was four, he thought that Hogwarts was a monster, literally. It took Teddy away and did not bring him back for months! And it made Vickie sad and grieving, and missing Teddy.

Then, the next year, it became worse. This time, the monster of Hogwarts took not only Teddy, but also Vickie away. They were both so happy just talking about that that there was no doubt left in the five year-old's mind: the monster had bewitched them to get attached to it, like the beast in that fairytale that Aunt Hermione read to him – "Beauty and the Beast". (Although, when he grows older, he would never admit that he has been fond of stories like that one – the stories about Roland, the best knight of Charles the Great – are the only thing that he'd admit as being fascinated with out of the whole Muggle literature.)

Then, he goes to Hogwarts, for lessons and mischief (mostly the later one). There, he meets the strict Professor McGonagall, the tiny Professor Flitwick, the guys who would stay his friends for life – and the girl he would gladly throw out of his life. But he can't, because she is a fellow Gryffindor. Her name is Jillian.

Jillian Hart has no heart. She's just a dull little bookworm who has decided to hate him just because he pushed her into the lake, when they were crossing it with the boats. Well, James admits that the water must have been really chilling, but it has been an accident!

Almost.

Now, Jillian Hart hates him. She mocks at his unruly red hair, his excited talking, his constant forgetting about his homework. She knows that she is smarter than he is and uses this advantage a little too joyfully. Whenever she explains a complex theory to some of their classmates, she can't help but add, "Come on, just concentrate a little harder. It isn't so difficult. I bet that even Potter can understand it on his sixth try." She has learned the Summoning Spell and keeps Accio-ing his wand at worst moments possible. She even goes so far as insulting Quiddtich – she calls it 'the stupid game that the stupid Potter lives for'. And to top it all, she's gotten friendly with Rose with the only purpose of feeding his cousin lies about him and making his life as difficult as possible. There is no Jillian Hart-free time, because she keeps visiting Uncle Ron and Aunt Hermione's house or even the Burrow. _At least I won't have to spend too much time in hell when I die, _James thinks._ My hell found me here, on earth, and it goes by the name of Jillian Hart._

James has always been a prankster. No one was ever spared from his mischief – only Rose, thanks to his merciful heart. But no one has ever been more targeted than Victoire in her last year at Hogwarts, except for maybe the Slytherins. No, scratch that – not even the Slytherins' suffering as long-time victims of James' tricks can hold a candle to what Victoire has to endure. James is really, _really_ angry with her. She has stolen Teddy from him and, what was worse, has changed him in a bad way. James is the one who has the biggest claim on Teddy's time and attention! Victoire has broken this unspoken rule and has started leading Teddy away for 'conversations'. James huffs. _So, that is how they call it nowadays_?

Still, he can put up with Victoire spending more time with Teddy than he does – she isn't his first girlfriend after all. What he cannot put up with, though, is the goofy expression that often appears on Teddy's face even when Victoire is not around and his hair changing the gentlest shade of blue – just the nuance that Victoire finds romantic. _Romantic, ha_! Victoire has ruined Teddy, she has. And as if that isn't enough, the whole nonsense goes on in full force even during the summer holidays. For first time in his life, James is careful when he is walking around the Burrow, because he fears that he might walk into something that would scar him for life.

So, the various hair-colours, the frogs in her bed, the cat tail that she sprouts all of a sudden are the least that Victoire deserves for her crime. James is not being jealous – just honest. But he knows that the others won't see it this way, so mostly, he keeps it to himself. Victoire doesn't rat him out, either, and James knows why: she knows that she's guilty, so she prefers to keep it quiet.

James doesn't mind his Dad's fame – he loves being the centre of attention and if his father is the one to place him there, well, what of that? After all, his Dad is _the_ hero, isn't he?

Only in his third year, he starts longing for a different kind of attention – one that he had earned himself. He wants to be James Sirius Potter, not just Harry Potter's kid. And he knows how to achieve it: by fighting dragons. By becoming a world-famous Quidditch hero, just like Victor Krum. And maybe even better.

But he can never tell this to Uncle Ron, although he has no problems sharing everything with this particular uncle of his. And that is his most stupid secret – he can never share with anyone about his admiration of the quick Bulgarian Seeker, because in a big, talkative family like theirs, it will become generally known in two hours. Three, maybe. And Uncle Ron throws a fit each time he hears Krum's name, although James doesn't know the reason. That is what makes his secret so stupid – that he doesn't even know why he keeps it.

James' sixth year is tainted by the presence of the devil incarnated – by the presence of a certain female classmate of him, that's it.

Jillian Hart has no heart. None at all. Except for the one that is in her name, of course. The heartless Hart.

That is nothing new – that she has no heart. However, the discovery that she has no brains either _is_ a surprise. She must have lost them somewhere during the last summer holiday. James knows that her parents have taken her to visit her Grandmother in Sweden – he has overheard Rose and Roxanne talking about that. Maybe some Yeti, some abominable snowman has stolen her brains away? He must have hypnotized her or something.

When Rose heard that assumption, she burst out laughing. When she finally calmed down, she told him that the Abominable Snowman lived in Tibet, not Sweden. That served only to change James' supposition to the hypothesis about the ice giants, who _certainly_ lived in Sweden. Because something must have happened. Why else would a girl like her – a teacher's pet, a studious student, a newly appointed Prefect – lose her precious time snogging some guys in the common room, instead of writing an additional role of parchment to her Charms essay? Or disobey the rules by going out for romantic walks outside, instead of patrolling in the hallways?

Not that he has spied on her or something like that. He has just saw the dot labeled 'J. Hart' moving outside, when it shouldn't have been there.

A few times.

This is his most lonely secret – the knowledge that Jillian Hart has lost her brains. Everyone else is thrilled for her finally starting to act like a girl. Even Rosie! James wants to gag each time he hears this. He liked Hart better in her natural state!

Wait... like her? No, no, no. Just a slip of the tongue. He was used to her natural state, that's it. He does not like Jillian Hart. This is not a secret.

But now he dislikes her even more than he did before. This is his most deeply hidden secret, because if Rose hears about this, she would roll her eyes and say smugly, "I knew it," while the truth is that there isn't anything to know.

His sixth year is also the time of some analyzing of his own mind, of thinking about hate – that is Jillian Hart, - love – his whole big family – and friendship. And then he realizes something important.

Fred is his best friend, his partner in crime, the one that he doesn't need to talk to, if he needs to know what he's thinking at the moment – their minds are so similar. They are inseparable and everyone, their teachers included, sees them almost like the new Weasley twins – smart, willful and mischievous. They share a perfect harmony of the perfect chaos. They share the same blood. They share the same interests.

And yet, if given a choice between saving Fred or Al from a burning building, he would save Al and he knows that Fred would understand.

This thought sometimes gives him nightmares. He can only hope he will never have to make this choice.

Now, James is in his seventh year. And Jillian Hart has no heart. Why else would she keep ignoring him? Yes, it's true that he hasn't had the guts to tell her that he did not dislike her anymore, that he wants to go out with her, but come on! Does female intuition count for nothing, or does Jillian completely lack it? Given the way she is, it can very much be the latter one.

Then one night, she falls asleep in the common room, laying her head on her Potion essay. There is no one else around, so James decides to take the risk and approaches her. He moves her inkwell away, so it would not spill on her, and covers her with a blanket.

He freezes on his spot, when her eyes suddenly flutter open, but she just smiles sleepily. "Thanks, James," she mutters and goes back to sleep, before he could say, "You're welcome."

James looks at her blond hair, at her white hand, at the smile that hasn't left her face even when she sleeps, and feels something warm swelling his chest. He recognizes it for what it is and keeps it there, warm, golden and his. This feeling of hope grows, spreads, shines, envelopes him in its fragrant embrace.

Maybe Jillian Hart does have a heart, after all.

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**A. N. ****The part about Sweden was in Dodger Gilmore's honor. Yes, I know that Yetis don't live in Sweden.**

5


	4. Dominique Weasley

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. Unfortunately.**

_Thank you, my dear reviewers. You've really made me feel like my writing is worthwhile. _

_Sorry for having almost disappeared from the site for so long. I had my flat being repaired, a new work project, and a failed try to have a holiday at the sea. Almost no time for reading and writing fanfiction. Sorry._

**Chapter 4**

**Dominique Weasley**

When they meet new people, they inevitably thinks that they are twins – they look the same age, they resemble each other very much – in fact, they resemble their mother – and they are in the same year at Hogwarts. But they are not. Twins, that's it. Dominique is born in September, eleven months earlier than Louis. Is it so difficult to remember? Obviously, it is. She loves pointing out at Louis that she is older than him – that makes her feel better about being so much younger than Victoire. She is the older one and she wants everyone to know that, but they keep forgetting, so she feels like it is a very special secret – a secret that she doesn't want to be a secret at all.

When she was little, she was desperately jealous of Victoire. Vickie was so much older than her, three whole years, she was taller than her, and she did not have to take an afternoon nap. Dominique did not want to take one either, but no one listened to her. _It isn't fair_, she often thought indignantly. _Only because I am still small!_ Nobody treated Vickie as a child, although, technically, she was a child. No, for the adults Victoire and Teddy were 'the big ones'. It was not Dominique's fault that she had been born a few years ahead of every other child in the family, but still, a few years _behind_ Teddy and Vickie!

And Victoire had Teddy. He was so big and cool, and he wore his hair blue. Not that Dominique would ever trade her best friend, Louis, for Teddy, but it would be nice to be given the _chance_ to choose! But no, Teddy always preferred being in Vickie's company. He was nice to Dominique, all right, but he seemed to consider her a baby, which she supposed she was. No, it was not fair and that was it!

While they are sitting in the Hogwarts Express for the very first time, she and Louis are so nervous that they pick a quarrel. This is hardly their first quarrel and Dominique has trouble believing it would be their last, but this time, everything is different. They are going to Hogwarts, for Merlin's sake! They are about to be Sorted! What would happen if the dragon or whatever made the choice felt their hostility towards each other and decided to put them in different Houses? Too bad that she has come to think of it now, when it may be too late.

Then, the Hat cries out "Gryffindor!" and Louis, grinning from ear to ear, plops down next to her and says, "I told you we'd be together, didn't I?"

Yet, there is something in his voice that makes her think that her secret fear might not have been so secret, after all.

All her life, Dominique has known that she's beautiful – just as beautiful as Victoire and more beautiful than most girls. It isn't just vanity – it's the truth, as it is told by her mirror. Later, when she turns fourteen, she finds out a different type of mirrors that she wholeheartedly prefers – these are the male mirrors. The man-mirrors. It is the dazed looks that guys get whenever she walks past them in the corridors. Yes, at age fourteen, Dominique Weasley finds an unsuspected talent within herself – she is a minx. Guys like her and she likes them. For a first time in her life, she's really grateful for being part-Veela, because her coquetry does not extend to spending hours obsessed with improving her looks, as many of her classmates do. All she needs is taking a shower, combing her shining silver hair and smiling widely – and she has all the boys she could wish for chasing after her.

She doesn't take it seriously, of course. How can she? It is just for fun. She wants to enjoy herself, to flirt with boys and tease them, until she finally finds the one who is meant for her.

And then, in their sixth year, Robert Laurence asks her in his soft, shy way if she wanted to go to Hogsmeade with him. Before she could tell him that no, he was her friend and that she _never_ dated her friends, because all that would come out of it would be complications, he keeps on talking and Dominique is shocked to find out that he had liked her for years! She was just trying to find a way to cut him off as gently as she could – she had to get rid of him before everything went out of hand!, - when it dawned on her that she did not want to get rid of him. That she was mad about him. Talk about madness, ha-ha! Well, it was not as if _someone_ expected of Dominique Weasley to be sane anyway, so two weeks later, the two of them are officially a couple.

Still, she will never tell anyone that if Robert hadn't gained the courage to ask her out, she would have never considered the possibility of asking _him_ out. She will keep it a secret, because there is no need for the others to know just how stupid she might get.

And yet, although she has Robert and despite all her previous boyfriends, she can't help but feel a little desperate when Louis gets his first serious girlfriend. It isn't as she isn't happy about him. She is. It's just that she's used to being his almost-twin, his best friend, his accidental confident and so many other things. She's used to being the most important woman – well, a girl still – in his life and she isn't happy to be pushed aside by another girl (well, Jess is a friend and a classmate but it's the principle that matters!)

It is her most shameful secret, because she knows how unfair it is – after all, if it were fair, she wouldn't minded she and Robert being put under the same estimation, but she, in fact, does mind. Strongly.

She can't feel more proud of her parents. Her mother is often underestimated as a beautiful face, a blondie with great sexual appeal and no brains, but she is so much more than that. You need a good head to manage to take part in the Triwizard Tournament _and_ survive, to deal with leaving your home country behind, to raise three crazy kids, while having a professional career, and a good one at that, to become a member of a family like the Weasleys, all that without going mad. Which, for the record, Fleur Delacour Weasley did.

And her Dad's scars are not horrible. Well, obviously they are, but they are not _repulsively_ horrible. They just show how brave he is and always has been. Dominique even admires them. And if anybody at Hogwarts have a problem with that – or with anything about her family, actually – they'd better keep it for themselves. After all, she is Aunt Ginny's niece and she knows some very nasty hexes. Reference: Stephen Nott.

When she realizes that Victoire actually considers Teddy as a potential boyfriend, she is convinced that her sister has gone crazy. Why would she do such a thing, taking Teddy as her boyfriend? Doesn't she treasure what they have? Boyfriend a girl can get at every corner, but a real friend was something so rare and so much more valuable. Vickie should acquire a boyfriend – Merlin knows that she has enough guys following her like lovesick puppies – and keep Teddy as her friend.

But then she sees the way they look at each other and realizes that these two can never be friends again, not the way they have been. Still, she doesn't think it right. _Maybe it's just the old jealousy_, Dominique thinks with secret remorse.

But no matter what she thinks about the perspective of Teddy and Victoire being together, she can't stand the way this awful Wilkins girl keeps wrapping herself around him like ivy. Really, can't she feel that she is playing a lost game? Teddy is already Victoire's – well, at least almost. But no matter how stupid Janet Wilkins is – and Teddy _does_ have a taste for picking up stupid girls, probably because they are more easily led to admire him because of his shapeshifting – she isn't a complete idiot and she must feel that the situation is getting out of control – or at least, out of _her_ control. Dominique is really mad at Teddy for not dumping her directly, but trying to find a way to be gentle, as if by some miracle, one morning he would wake up blissfully Janet-free and ready to ask Victoire out. If anything, this behavior only served to strengthen her obsession with him, hence the ivy thing. She had recently started even to attend Quidditch practices, only to keep him under control. If it was up to her, Dominique would happily leave Teddy drown into the river that he has so stupidly entered – a man should act like one, after all! – but unfortunately, Victoire is involved and Dominique has recently starting to realize that Vickie has fancied Teddy forever, no matter how strange it sounds to her young ears. So, she takes measures by slipping an almost harmless laxative potion in Wilkins' pumpkin juice. When, after being forced to excuse herself and leave the common room for three times in a row in less than an hour, she finally goes to her dorm for a rest and Teddy immediately grabs his chance to take Victoire outside for a walk. About two hours later, they return beaming. Not that Dominique has spied on them, of course.

She is a little ashamed of what she did to Janet Wilkins and wouldn't like for anyone to know about this, but generally, it is a thing that she quite enjoys. If it had been up to her, she would have snatched the guy right out of the obsessive bird, but unfortunately, Victoire isn't the type to act cruelly even when she needed to, and Teddy is not the one to upset women. Even when it is for the best of everyone. Even when they are obsessive and feather-brained.

Years later, Dominique will say that adores children and especially Victoire's children. It's true – she has adored them ever since her newborn Metamorphmagus nephew was first placed in her arms and he opened his eyes and purred contentedly, his hair changing to gentle green in the process. But she is so happy, she always adds, that the whole baby mess is not in her house. It's just too noisy and too responsible for her to deal with.

During the seven long years of waiting and examinations, the results of which are so delightfully normal, showing that in theory, there aren't any obstacles for conception, but in practice, it doesn't happen, she would give everything for having such a mess in her home.

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**So? Am I forgiven for not updating sooner? Tell me!**


	5. Louis Weasley

_Disclaimer: Mine? Hardly!_

**Thanks everyone who left a review – or reviews. In plural form. I'll heartily admit that I prefer the second variant.**

You know what writer's block is? So do I. But right now, I seem to be bubbling with author's creativeness. Not that it is the right moment for that, mind you! But here I am, because my ideas just wouldn't let me rest. Yesterday I was the first writer ever to post a fanfic in Children of the Lamp category, a few hours later I was writing a Temeraire story, which is also finished (and it will be the first one in this category, too) – if there is someone who likes these series, please, have a look and review – and now I am here with a HP fanfic. I really hope that my muse will be satisfied and let me do my REAL work, I mean, visit me **there**!

Chapter 4

Louis Weasley

He is a boy. No matter how perfect his skin is, how blue his eyes are and how blond his hair is, he is a boy! He isn't pretty, he isn't beautiful, he isn't 'sweet-faced' – Merlin, he wants to gag each time he hears _this_ – and he certainly isn't a _girl_, so why on earth do these stupid women think that he'd be delighted to hear all this rubbish? He is probably the only boy in England who fervently wishes for acne and prominent Adam apple, so he could have more boyish looks.

No need to say, he is not granted this blessing.

He _is_ a boy, though. Is that so hard to understand that everyone needs to treat him as if he were a girl?

He is a boy, and a Gryffindor through and through – his father says it, his Uncles say it, his Aunt Ginny says it, and even his Aunt Hermione, who is really trying to be impartial about Houses and stuff, can't help but say that a boy like Louis could not go anywhere but to the best House of all.

The Hat says it, too – as soon as he puts it on his head, it laughs and says that Weasleys are a tremendous waste of time – they could just as well go straight to Gryffindor and leave it deal with students who really needed being thought over. _Come on, _he thinks to it impatiently_, say it already. Dom is getting nervous. _Oh, the Hat coos_, it's so kind of you to care about your sister in such a way. You're such a cute boy._ "GRYFFINFOR!" it yells and he angrily takes it off and barely refrains from throwing in on the floor and stepping on it.

Even the _Hat_ thinks he is cute.

But he won't pay attention to it, because he is too happy – the Hat has somehow missed spotting his secret fear – the fear that Dominique's fear will turn out to be true and they will be sorted in different Houses.

He is the youngest child in his family and he can't say all the times when he's wished he were the eldest one. He cannot remember the reasons that made him feel that way in most occasions, but he remembers one of them very clearly: when Victoire and Teddy started dating. He wished to warn Teddy that if he hurt Victoire, ever, he would curse him into oblivion and _then_ kill him. Anyway, such words, addressed to a eighteen years old by a fourth grade would sound ridiculous, so Louis saved them for himself.

He has no hesitations to give that warning to Robert Laurence, though, and his unspoken desire to have been able to tell them to Teddy – although it turned out that there had been no need of that, since Teddy made an exemplary husband to Vicky – makes his words harsher than he intended. Louis isn't sorry, though: nothing can be harsh enough to ensure Dominique's wellbeing.

So, Vicky has Teddy, Dominique has Robert, and who does Louis have? Every girl he wants, of course, Dom boasts a little. He is a heartbreaker born and bred, she says, and everyone agrees. Everyone but Louis. Just because she is a minx, that doesn't mean that he is a heartbreaker. She is the one who smiles at boys, flirts with them and teases them; he is the one who just walks in the halls of Hogwarts, hurrying for his next class, without the slightest thought of charming the girls. They are the ones who throw themselves at him, not the other way around. And he's always been perfectly honest with them. He's never promised them the stars and the moon, so he cannot understand why, when they become too clingy and he has to stop the relationship, they behave as if he had lied to them in the most horrible way imaginable. On the other hand, he can't stop living his life just because of fear that he would hurt women. He isn't a heartbreaker, but a normal man with normal needs and desires… and no plans of settling down, of marrying someone and so on.

And then Victoire invites him over to her daughter's third birthday and she is there. Naomi, dark-skinned, dark-haired and by no means a great beauty. Victoire's best friend. A woman he's known for sixteen years. One of those who called him 'beautiful boy' just because she knew that it would piss him off, for Merlin's sake!

How on earth they become interested in one another is a secret to everybody. Even to the parties themselves.

A year later, Naomi tell him something that makes him feel both joy and fear – joy for her, and for himself, and fear for Dominique, because in a few months, he and Naomi will have the one thing that Dominique wants more than anything – what he wants almost this much, for her. He wants her to have a baby. Everyone does – Dom, Roberts, their parents, their families – and in Dom's case, this is quite a number of people. The Healers say that there is no obstacle. Unfortunately, there is no baby either.

_Why doesn't it happen_, Louis wonders. He hates seeing Dominique so sad, so depressed. In their duo of almost-twins, she is supposed to be the cheerful one, the one who always sees the bright side in all situations and if there isn't any bright side, she _invents_ it. But no one can invent a baby when there simply isn't one, not even Dom.

They hide their news as long as possible, because Louis is afraid that it could make Dominique break. Naomi says that he's overreacting, but he knows he isn't. Surely Dom will feel like a complete and utter failure. The last thing Louis wants is to hurt her, but there is no way around.

The explosion comes in the Burrow, when they have all somehow managed to position themselves around the four joined tables for the usual Weasley Sunday dinner. His father offers Naomi a glass of wine and she shakes her head and smiles. "Right now everything I want is strawberries," she says. "I don't know why, but I am dying for strawberries. I even dream of them."

Since it is the middle of December, it is obvious that her dream strawberries will stay just that – a dream. His grandmother laughs and says, "Well, this isn't something unusual. For myself, I was dying for lemon cheese, all six times. I must have eaten tons of it."

There is a moment of silence around the tables and then everyone burst out in excited questions. Well, almost everyone. The loud sound of Dominique's chair hitting the floor turns all heads at her direction. She storms outside, not looking at anybody. _Damn it, I was right_, Louis thinks.

"Merlin's beard! I'm sorry," Robert says. "I'll talk to her. Congratulations, by the way," he adds, looking at Naomi and Louis.

"No," Louis says, "you're staying here and finishing your wine. I'll be the one to deal with my sister."

Robert hesitates. "Are you sure?" he askes. "She might be – "

Louis almost laughs. "I know," he says. "Don't forget that I've known your wife longer than you have." His face softens. "Don't worry," he says, "everything will be all right."

_At least I hope so._

He finds Dominique in the garden, where they have played hide and seek and many other games. She simply turns and looks at him. Her face is pale and completely blank and her eyes are burning with fury.

"Are you pleased with yourself?" he asks. "A good performance, by the way. Congratulations."

"Why didn't you tell me?" she yells. "You wanted it to be the great surprise?"

"No, because I wanted to protect you."

"From the truth?"

'From the pain that is tearing you apart at that moment."

Dominique snorted. "Go to hell."

He grabs her shoulders and forces her to look him in the eye. "That's enough," he said. "Now I talk and you listen. I've never had the ambition to be the first of us to have kids. I wish you had three already! But does that mean I shouldn't rejoice at my own child? Well, I'm sorry, but I can't. I am happy. I can't wait the remaining months. I am almost mad with joy. That doesn't mean that I don't care about your feelings, but I refuse to feel guilty because of you." She tried to turn her head aside, but he stopped her. "You know, there are things that are far worse than not having children, we both know that. And anyway, the Healers tell you that physically there is nothing wrong with you and Robert, so maybe it's all in your head. You're the one doing it to yourself. I care for you and I wish that you got pregnant as soon as possible, but do you know what? Life doesn't stop because of you. If you want to continue wallowing in your pity, well, do as you please. But do not expect of me to drown along with you. Because, honestly, I am fed up with you!"

He roughly pushes her aside and heads for the house. He has almost reached the end of the garden, when he hears her voice, "Louis!"

He turns, ready to meet her fury or maybe her fist. But there is no such thing. She is even paler than before, but her lips are parted and she is breathing rapidly. "Congratulations, Lou," she says. "I am happy for you. Really."

He knows it is a lie, but at least she has spoken the words. And with time, they will grow to be true. So, he hugs her and leads her back to the house. _Nothing can go wrong anymore_, he thinks.

Only a few months later, everything goes wrong.

He is doing a research on unicorns when Victoire calls him. Later, he would remember with unnatural clarity the exact phrase that he had been reading when her face appeared in the fireplace. "Something happened to Naomi," she says immediately, her blue eyes dark with worry.

Louis throws the report aside and hurries to the fireplace. "What do you mean?" he asks.

"We were planning to do some shopping for the baby today and I came to your place. She didn't answer the bell, so I unlocked the door with _Alohomora_ and I saw she was still sleeping. I made her breakfast and for ten minutes, I've been trying to wake her, but I can't, Lou! I think she's unconscious."

Louis feels his heart racing. "Did you call St. Mungo's?" he asks.

"They are coming. I just wanted to tell you."

"I'll meet you there," he says. "Don't leave her alone – not even for a minute!"

When he arrives at the hospital, there is a good number of family members already there and for the next few hours, a stream of new ones keeps leaking in the halls.

His cousin Molly comes to them half an hour after his arrival. She seems very pale in her Healer robes. Her face is expressionless, but her nervousness is evident by her hands. Only an effort to not clasp them together can keep them so immobile. "What's wrong, Molly?" Louis asks.

"Maybe you should sit down, Louis," she suggests, avoiding his eyes.

"_What has happened to Naomi since last night till this morning?_" he asks.

"We… we are almost sure that Naomi suffered a bleeding in the brain," she whispers almost inaudibly.

There are a few gasps in the hall. Louis hears his mother's voice, "No! That's impossible!"

With a great effort to keep the panic out of his voice, he turns to his cousin, "And now what?"

"We're trying to stabilize her, but her pregnancy complicates the things very much. We can't use the standard spells for such cases."

"Why not?"

"The baby… the baby is carried past term, right? By two weeks." Louis nods. "The spells are very strong and there is a great risk… certainty, actually… that they'll damage the baby."

Silence. "We're planning on extracting the baby in a few hours time," Molly continues, "and then we'll be free to treat her." She notices the fear in his eyes. "Louis, we're doing all that we can."

He pats her cheek. "I know, Molly." After a moment, he asks, "But what caused that… that bleeding? She was well yesterday!"

Molly does not want to answer. She looks at her father, at her grandmother, at Albus, at Uncle George as if they could make Louis forget his question. "Why, Molly?" he asks again.

"It may be due to her pregnancy," she finally says. "Such cases are known in medicine."

He looks at her, horrified. She sighs, looking very, very tired, almost exhausted, although it is only the beginning of her workday. "I must go," she says.

Victoire suddenly breaks the silence that follows Molly's departing. "Why didn't I try to wake her sooner!" she exclaims. "I should have – "

Louis interrupts her. "No, Vic," he says. "It isn't your fault. In the morning, I also thought that she was sleeping. There was nothing to tell us otherwise."

Molly comes back two times. The first time, she tells them that they had extracted the baby – a lively and loud-mouthed boy – "and blond, Louis! It seems we'll have another Veela male in the family." Louis does not care much, although his parents and the rest of the family do, judging by their exclamations of joy. All he can think about is Naomi.

When Molly comes back the second time, she isn't smiling. Louis knows what she 's going to tell him even before she speaks.

The next few days are a blur in Louis' memory. He does notice one thing, though: each time he enters the room in his parents' home, where the cradle with the newborn Arthur – "_Of course it will be Arthur, Louis! I don't have a grandfather and I fell in love with yours twenty years ago, when Victoire fist took me to the Burrow_" is now placed, his father is there, his eyes never leaving Louis out of their reach and his hand ready to his wand.

"Maybe I should just stop coming," Louis suggests ironically one evening, expecting that his father will object.

"Yes, maybe you should, for a while," Bill answers calmly. Louis stands up and slams the door behind him. While his mother cries, "Bill, what's got into you," he realizes that he's finally got the answer to one question that has been stored in the periphery of his mind: there is someone, who has noticed, that first time in the hospital, how much Louis hates the new being that has cost Naomi's life. Louis supposes he should feel ashamed.

He doesn't.

Two hours after leaving Shell Cottage, Louis finds himself under a siege. Dominique is the first one: she comes at the front door and says, "I want to talk to you."

"Not now," Louis answers and slams the door in her face.

In the morning, Victoire Firecalls. "May I come to breakfast?" she asks.

"No," Louis says and cuts the connection. He makes himself a coffee and is ready to leave the house, but when he opens the door, James and Fred are staying there. He slams it closed.

A few hours later, he peeks outside and finds out that James and Fred are gone… but Al and Rose are deposed on his front steps – his _iced_ front steps – sharing a bun. He shakes his head. _This has to end_.

The fireplace suddenly shines green. _Dominique_. "Can I come now?" she asks.

"No," he spits, cuts the connection and after a few moments of careful consideration Firecalls his Aunt Ginny.

"Louis!" She is obviously delighted to see him. "I was so worried about you!"

"Make them scarce," he says curtly.

"You've seen your guests!" She claps her hands. "Will you talk to someone now?"

"No. Just get them out of here."

Ginny Potter sighs. "Well, Louis, we'll do it your way."

"_Your_ way, you mean. Aunt Ginny, this is ludicrous! Leave me alone! I won't give up, just so you know. I am stubborn."

"Honey, we are stubborn too," she reminds him. "And we prevail in numbers."

Two weeks later, they are still there and Louis is still in the ridiculous situation of a prisoner inside his own house. One evening, he peeks aside and sees that Lucy and Roxy – this night's guards – are asleep. He creeps beside the, when –

"Are we going somewhere?" James asks.

Louis groans, looking at James, Al, Lily, Hugo, Dom, and Robert. "This isn't normal," he says.

"That's what we've been saying for weeks," Al replies.

Louis takes a deep breath and then grabs Dominique by the hand and pushes her inside. "Happy?" he asks his other awful relatives. "Now get lost!"

He wants to shout at Dominique, but she is so docile that he suddenly can't find the strength. She sits on the sofa and watches him, not uttering a word. "Well?" he says. "I thought you wanted to talk."

"Not exactly. I just wanted to be with you."

He looks at her with faint surprise. "I thought this was all about you wanting to talk rubbish about how you understand how I feel and so on."

"But I don't understand how you feel," she says. "How could I? I can only speak for myself and if I am in such grief, I cannot even imagine what it must be for you."

"I'm glad we got clear about this," Louis snaps.

They don't talk anymore, not even when Dominique makes dinner which they barely touch. Not even when he stands near the window and watches the dark sky and she watches him from the sofa for a very long time. Not even when he lies next to her, placing his head in her lap, her fingers gently running through his hair, on his face, feeling the sudden moisture there. They stay like this for hours, until he is too spent for tears anymore. Even then, her hands do not stop their soothing motion. Finally, the two of them fall asleep there, on the sofa.

A few hours later, Louis stands up, looks at her and smiles – the first smile after Naomi's death, although his face is tired and lined by the track of tears. Dominique smiles back. He holds out a hand and she takes it. Together, they watch the rosy tinge of the dawn springing in bursting flames – the sun is rising.

"Coffee?" she asks.

He shakes his head. "Come with me," he says and she grabs her coat. At the door, they are joined by Teddy and Hugo, who had obviously spent the whole night here. For a moment, Louis feels remorse for making all his relatives sleep out in the cold – literally, in one night or another.

It is still very early, but in Shell Cottage, the lights are on. Bill looks at the newcomers and smiles, letting them in.

Fleur is just placing Arthur back in the crib. Louis stops her with a gesture and takes the baby himself, looking at it closely. Despite all expectations that the kid would have skin that would be a mix between Louis' fair one and Naomi's dark one, the baby is as white as milk, with silver blond hair. His eyes are shockingly black, though – the only thing that Arthur has taken from his mother. Louis smiles down at him. "We are going home," he tells him. Behind his back, he hears his mother's sigh of relief and Dominique's soothing murmur.

_We'll make it, _Louis thinks_. Somehow._

It isn't a very comforting thought for the beginning of the rest of their lives, but it is all he has to offer. Fortunately, he has babysat so many of his cousins – and nephews – that feeding a baby comes natural to him.

A month later, he is preparing the house – and the baby – for a careful inspection. "Now, I want you to listen to me," Louis says to Arthur, who is now two months old. "Today, your Aunt Dominique is making her first official visit. I want you to startle her. I want noise. I want wails. I know you can do it – you've proved it too often for my liking. I want you to drive her mad." He gives the baby his finger to hold. "It'll do her good, you know. I want her to realize that having a baby is not only sweet nothings and cooing, so she would stop her eternal longing for a child or at least, moderate it a little. And then it might happen, who knows? She is completely healthy, so she might just need a little slowing down. I want you to misbehave. I want you to spit your milk in her face. It's for her, in the end. Are we together in this?"

The next moment, the little mouth gaps opened and a horrible crying fills the room. "I see you understand what I mean," Louis says.

Two months later the flames in the fireplace come to life. Somehow, Louis knows who it that and he knows what she is going to tell him, even before he sees her ecstatic face.

A few minutes later, he takes Arthur and lifts him up in the air, the way the baby likes most. "We did it, mate! We did it!" The baby gurgles. "See?" Louis goes on, planting a kiss on his forehead. "But we aren't telling anyone, right? This is our male secret."

A few years later, Louis is accustomed to his new life – a good life, despite its horrible beginning. Because Louis loves his son, he loves his family and he loves his work. And he is happy.

He's always wanted to do researches for magical creatures – something that his Uncle Charlie heartily approves. He is born for this – his colleagues often ask him where he takes his ideas from. He shrugs and says that they come to him just like this. He has to develop them into hypotheses, to trial them, to prove them and he loves every minute of it. But he loves being with the creature themselves even more – there is a reason why his favorite uncle is Charlie, after all.

He's never thought about loving his family before. He has loved them, of course, but he has never thought about it. Naomi's death made them assess them at their true worth – where he would be if they haven't been so intent on not letting him going down? Or if they weren't there to help him with Arthur whenever he needed them? Or even only if they weren't there, as a comforting presence, as assurance that there were some things that would never change?

And he loves Arthur. Some people pity the boy for not having a mother, but there are more than enough female figures in the kid's life, starting with his great-grandmother and ending with Lily, so Arthur will never be deprived of motherly love. It isn't the same as the love that Naomi would have given him, if she were alive, of course, but it is warm and real, and _there_. The two of them have a wonderful life. If there are people who think that just because Louis is a young man with a small child, he can't be _not_ searching for a woman to fill his sad life, it's their problem and not his. It's obvious that they haven't been raised in the most fantastic family of all and that they aren't parents to the most terrific kid in the world. There are fates far worse than that.

And if Louis sometimes lets himself wish that things were different, it doesn't matter. Because everybody has a secret wish to have done something different, but life is the way it is, not the way it might have been. And Louis wouldn't want to live in a dreamland.

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_So, here I am. Is that enough for you, muse? Will you let me do my work now?_

**P.P. Yesterday, I found out something that I never knew. It seems that on this site, there are categories that are included in the options for creating a story, but aren't visible on the site, because their archives are empty. For example: the Temeraire category was already existing, when I posted my Temeraire fic, but it was not visible in Book****s section, before I put my story in. I am sure that there are other categories like that, too, so if you want to post something in a category that obviously doesn't exist, check it with Creating story options.**

11


	6. Albus Severus Potter

_Disclaimer: I love HP characters. I wouldn't have loved them more even if they were mine._

**Thanks for all your reviews. I suppose you know how much they mean to every author and I can't even explain the stimulating effect that they have on me.**

Chapter 6

Albus Severus Potter

. Albus Severus Potter. Albus. Severus. Potter. Al-bus. Se-ve-rus. Pot-ter. No matter in how many ways he tries it, it sounds just as awful. What on earth were his poor parents thinking?!

He hasn't started his name because of that, though – he was too little to understand the awful burden that his parents had laid upon him. No, when he was a small child, he hated it just because he heard it so seldom that each time he did, it meant trouble. He was always Al – "Al, come on, bath time!" – his mother. "Al, you can never guess what I brought you" – his father. "Al, have you ever heard that we've got a giant who hides in the attic?" – James. "Al, can I sleep with you tonight? I don't want the dragons that James told me about to find and eat me." – Lily.

On the other hand, Albus Severus – or even worse, Albus Severus Potter – always meant trouble. "Albus Severus Potter! What happened to the Chocolate frogs?" "Albus Severus Potter, if you don't put your room in order that instant, you won't know what will happen to you!" "Albus Severus Potter, I am deeply disappointed in you. How could you say such a thing to poor Rose?"

When he grows up, he realized that his problems with his name go far beyond such childish reasoning. Strange as it his, his biggest problem is not with his strange first name or his even more eccentric second name. No, his biggest problem is with his last name – Potter. _The_ Harry Potter's son. Is he always going to be known just as Harry Potter's little kid, his small copy – for he really is the spitting image of his father, - the one who is always being stared at, photographed, regarded by other kids with respect that he does not at all deserve for something that he has never done? "I didn't save the wizarding world, that was my father!" he wants to shout sometimes. "My only merit is that I was born to Harry Potter!"

On the other hand, couldn't his parents give him a name that would sound more _normal_? James got such a nice name – James Sirius Potter. Lily's name also has a nice ring to it – Lily Luna Potter. They are both named after dead heroes, just like Al, but why on earth did they get the _good_ names?

He would never ask this question, though – it wouldn't _change_ anything and Al doesn't like to waste his time on things that he cannot change.

And besides, if James ever hears about that, he would laugh himself silly. Not that it matters.

When his brother leaves for Hogwarts, Al doesn't miss him. What is there to miss about James? The frogs that have suddenly found their way to your bed? The cold awakening with a bucket of water spilled over your head, because "Come on, Al! Get out of this bed! It is _snowing_!" The Dungbombs exploding under your chair, because James and Fred have decided to check how much time it would take to set them ablaze? No, he doesn't miss James. It would be silly if he did and he isn't silly. It's just that James has scarred him so deeply that he has some sort of brain affliction – the house really seems unnaturally quiet now, when Al thinks of it.

Not that he would tell James this little secret. _Ever_. Because James would take it as a proof that Al has missed him and that isn't true. At all.

Every human being has principles to live up to, and Al's principles are very simple indeed. _Beware of James. Protect Lily._ These are the mantras that he repeats to himself every morning at awakening – if he wakes up at his own time and not at a bucket of water or a barking Padfoot right in his face, both courtesy of James.

The first task is an easy one – he watches out for James every minute of every day, always and everywhere.

The second one is harder, because circumstances are constantly changing. When he was little, it was _protect Lily from falling, while she's trying to walk, protect Lily from touching the nice yellow flames in the fireplace, protect Lily from the giants that James has warned us about._ Then, it became _protect Lily from James' stupid pranks, although she's quite good at protecting herself, because that isn't the matter_ – Then, at his sixth year, it became _protect Lily from all those guys who dare to treat her with such disrespect, shoving their tongue into her mouth_ – When he is nineteen, _protect Lily from this_ and that changes into _kill Lorcan Scamander! _The bastard has pretended to be Al's friend and one doesn't expect of one's friends to find them giving shelter to one's baby sister of all people in their bed no less! And that is what happens to Al – he goes to visit the Scamander twins in their flat and finds himself face to face with his sister, who is just emerging from the bathroom, wearing – hold on, she isn't wearing anything!

Years later, when Lily is already Mrs Scamander and a mother of two, Al still holds a small brotherly secret – the hope that Lily has found the kids under a rose-bush… Probably the same rose-bush where Ginny has found _them_.

He loves his family – all its members, although if you ask him to name them one by one, he is sure to miss someone – there are so many of them! But he loves them all the same and he thinks that the big family gives him a big advantage – he doesn't need to bother about gaining friends, because his cousins are his friends. No matter how many other friends he will meet in his way, they will always be his best friends.

But his very best friend has always been Rose.

Of course she is, anyone would say. They are cousins, they share the same blood, they are born in the same year, they have parents who practically live in each other's homes, and they are both afraid of James… All logical reasons why they are best friends.

And that's exactly what sometimes keeps nagging at the back of Al's mind: that they were _destined_ to be friends, that they were _supposed_ to be best friends – that their friendship, deep as it is, has not come by its own. Would Al Potter and Rose Weasley still be friends if they hadn't known each other from Adam, if they had met for a first time in the Hogwarts Express? In fact, the two of them cannot be more different: Al is quiet and shy, while Rose is expansive; Al is a dreamer, while Rose is all practicality; Al would admire his new broom for hours, while Rose would squeal in delight at the sight of it and then would start disjointing it immediately to see how it worked; Al's best subject is Defence Against the Dark Arts – a subject that favors originality and inspiration, while Rose's is the exact Transfiguration. Maybe they would have limited their contacts to "Hi, Potter, how are you?" and "Hello, Weasley. Would you tell me where our last assignment is due to?", if they weren't cousins. But they are.

Once, he shares these thoughts with Rose and understands almost immediately that it was a mistakes, for her eyes widen. "You mean you wouldn't have been friends with me if we weren't relatives?"

All these years spent as Rose's friend has taught Albus when there is a storm coming and he mutters, "No, of course not – I just – I – Just forget about it, OK?"

Years pass and Al learns something important: you don't love someone despite the differences between the two of you, you love them _because_ of these differences. He loves Rose because of her manner to smile kindly and chat amiably to people she's known for less than five minutes; because of her habit to analyze everything that happened during the day, every day; because of her belief that there is an explanation for just anything and her determined search of such explanation. He loves Rose just for being Rose.

"You know, the two of you are so different," Scorpius Malfoy says one day, while they are sitting near the lake. His hand does not leave Rose's hair.

_If he shoves his tongue in__to her ear, I am going to puke_, Al thinks.

"So, how did you end up being best friends?" Scorpius goes on, and Al laughs.

"Oh, it was never a matter of choice," he explains. "Our parents foisted her on me, to be my best friend. No one ever bothered to ask me whether I _wanted_ her or not. I never chose her."

Rose leans closer against Scorpius. "But if you could choose now, you would choose me for your best friend, don't you?" she retaliates cheerfully.

Al grins again, admitting that it is so, and looks fondly at his two friends. Friendship means so much to him, he cannot find words to express it. Fortunately, he doesn't have to.

Another thing that matters much in his life is Quidditch – quite unsurprisingly, given the fact that both his parents are excellent at it. He is, too. He is in love with the game. Everyone is, in their family – his parents, his siblings, most of his cousins and so on. And there was never the slightest doubt that the three little Potters would make the Gryffindor team. Which they do, again unsurprisingly.

Sometimes, when they have a practice or even during a match, Al spares a moment to think about Quidditch and the way it is intertwined with people's temper. James, of course, is a Seeker – there was never the problem of being anything else. He has never wanted anything else. And the position suits him perfectly – he's adventurous, curious, always trying something, always _seeking_ for something. Besides, it's usually the Seeker who gets the spotlights and James loves being in the spotlight.

Lily could never be anything but a Chaser – always chasing an adventure of her own, always chasing release of the burden of being the younger child, the most protected and pampered child. She loves chasing because of chasing itself – chasing James and Al for attention, chasing a way to leave her own mark into the world. Being a Chaser is not as glorious as being a Seeker, but there are many cases where Chasers are known for saving the game and that makes Lily happy, proving an old claim of hers – that no enterprise of James and Al can have a happy end without her.

And Al? He is not a glorious Seeker. He is not an awesome Chaser. He is just the one who is often forgotten when the things look good for his team, but is immediately called to people's mind, when he makes even the smallest mistake. He is just a humble Keeper – an amazingly good and renowned one, but only a Keeper anyway. His duty is not to _attack_ – it is to _protect_, and that is not nearly as glorious. It's easy to lose him of sight during the victory celebrations – the attention is focused mostly on the Seeker and the Chasers and that lets Al to melt into the background, to watch what was going on and feel happy. He doesn't need attention and fireworks – that is James, and Lily, to some extent.

He loves all of his cousins and he trusts the Sorting Hat, but sometimes he just wonders whether it was in its right mind, when it placed Molly in Gryffindor. As much as he loves her, he must admit that she isn't the bravest person under the sun. Merlin, she isn't even the bravest person in their very big family! She fears dogs. She fears spiders. She fears heights. She fears failures. All in all, she fears everything that Al can imagine! On the other hand, she is so smart, she loves getting knowledge, she is always discussing things that Al cannot even retain, let alone understand, with Aunt Hermione – it is clear that she belongs in Ravenclaw!

But she is Sorted in Gryffindor, she becomes a Prefect and then a Head Girl, she graduates with such brilliant grades that the other Weasley kids can only exchange horrified looks, knowing that from now on, their marks will always be expected to be at least half as good, and St. Mungo's staff is fascinated to have her.

Al will never forget the day when he realized how wrong he had been – the day when Naomi Weasley died.

He remembers the mix of worry and hope in Louis' eyes and the way it died out the moment he saw Molly's face – calm and sad. He remembers Louis bolting out of the hospital, not talking to anyone and clearly unwilling for anyone to follow him.

"It's a nightmare," Ginny whispers. "I don't believe it… how could it happen? Just for one night…"

"I agree that it's a nightmare," Molly says, "but it's real, it's all real... Are we going to leave him like that?"

She means Louis. Everybody looks at Fleur and Bill, who look at each other. "Yes," Bill finally says. "For this night, yes."

Al remembers how they all went to the Burrow – actually, no one suggested it, it was just understood – and his Uncle George immediately went straight for the bottles of Firewhiskey.

"Does anybody fancy a drink?" he asked.

"Yes, please, me," Molly said.

"You?" Uncle George asked. He had a reason to doubt he's heard right, because Molly doesn't drink. Never.

"For once, I think I need one," Molly sais and taking the bottle out of his hand, she took a deep swig.

Later this night, Al reached to open the door of the bathroom, when he heard it – the unmistakable sound of sobbing. He peered carefully and there she was – Molly, kneeling on the floor and stifling her weeping in a big towel. He could hardly believe that it is his cousin, always so calm and sure of herself. She had preserved her composure during the whole awful day in the hospital, trying to save Naomi, trying to cheer everyone else and now she was reduced to this sobbing mess? How much had she held back? How much strength had she spent to keep her appearance, to be strong, so she wouldn't frighten Louis even more? Al wanted to do something, to comfort her somehow, but he wasn't good at comforting, so he just left as quietly as possible.

During the following years, he has the chance to look her, when her father is brought to the hospital with a dangerous infection, when their grandfather has made one of his Muggle things explode right into his face, when James is transported here straight from the Quidditch pitch with a concussion of the brain and four broken ribs – but only _after_ catching the Snitch, which was the first thing he asks when he finally wakes up, the scoundrel that he is – and many other cases. She is always calm and calming, professional, doing her best for the sick one – and the healthy ones, as well. And during the next few days, she looks awful – pale, and tired, and obviously deprived of her sleep, - but always, there is an encouraging smile on her lips.

Al knows that he's been mistaken and he does his best to correct it. He is always careful to attend to Molly's small needs and distract the others' attention from her, when there is an accident within the family and everyone looks at her, expecting answers and encouragement. And when someone asks him "Who is the bravest person you know?, expecting to hear "My father" or "Albus Dumbledore", they is always left to wonder what it is in Molly Weasley that makes her so special – the bravest person Al Potter knows.

When Al he little, he wanted to become an Auror. Later, he wanted to become a Healer. The thought of becoming an Unspeakable had never crossed his mind and yet, that's the job that he loves and that suits him: he can do something good for the world without attracting unwanted attention to himself. Here, he isn't Harry Potter's son – he's just Potter, the same way that Luke is Garland and Carrie is Johnson. Besides, that gives him an upper hand – a secret that his siblings and his cousins would never know. There is a reason why Unspeakable are called Unspeakable, after all.

While his siblings and cousins start relationships and family, he's single most of the time. The truth is, he's never been too interested in girls. Oh, he had his fair share of girlfriends at Hogwarts and after that and he liked them fine, but there was something missing. Always, always missing. He knows that he can stay with some of them and even be happy, but it isn't enough. He wants more – he wants to have what his parents have, what James and Jillian have, what Rose is discovering with Scorpius Malfoy. He likes Rebecca and later, Charlene, maybe even loves them, but deep inside he knows that if they face the same problem that his cousin Dominique has faced and changed the way she had changed – her depression and maniacal desire for a child practically turned her into another person, - he could never show the longtime patience and support that Robert has treated Dominique with. And that shows him that neither Rebecca, not Charlene is the one.

He isn't looking for The One that day, when he enters Gringotts – he just wants to draw on his savings. And then, of course, he goes to see his Uncle Bill, but even before entering, he notices a blond head that could not possibly be Bill's. "Oh sorry," he says, "I haven't realized that you were with a client. I'll come back later."

"There is no need," Uncle Bill answers. "She isn't a client, she is a colleague… and a relative as well. Isabelle, this is Al Potter, my nephew; Al, I want you to meet Isabelle, my niece. Gabrielle's daughter. She moved to London recently."

"Ah yes, I remember," Al says. "Aunt Fleur mentioned that – "

But what Fleur Weasley has mentioned remains unknown, because in this moment, Isabelle turns her head toward the newcomer and Al realizes for a first time how all these men that he had mocked at for staring with awe at Vic and Dom must have felt. He has thought himself immune to Veela's charm, because his cousins' and Aunt Fleur's looks has never had any effect on him. He has been mistaken. All he can see now is the green light of her eyes, the perfect oval of her face, and the nice line of her smiling mouth.

Uncle Bill takes them both to dinner; later, he will say that he's never felt less welcomed in his life.

And so it began.

Isabelle is not like any of the women whom Al has known. She's a strange mix of opposites: she's serious and professional and yet she can spend the whole night in a nightclub, drinking Firewhiskey, and then go to the bank exactly at nine o'clock to work restlessly the whole day; she adores to ride flying motorbikes dressed in black leathery clothes, and she enjoys Muggle opera no less; sometimes, she loves talking nonsense, but she's smart. And very cautious. Al understands the loss of her husband a few years ago and the effort to bring her little son in the best way possible – including moving to London, where they could start anew – has made her hesitant, but there must be something else. He knows that she loves him. He loves her and Antoine and wants to build a life with them, yet each time he starts this conversation, she pulls back, telling him that it was too early to talk about that. Only when even she cannot deny that it _isn't_ too early, she lets the cat out of the bag: Antoine is going to stay her only child. His birth, she says, was very hard and the Healers cut her uterus off, to save her life. "You want a family, Al," she says. "And I cannot give you that. All I have to offer is me – me and Antoine."

He understands. "And haven't you thought that the two of you might be enough for me?" he asks gently.

Her green eyes, much lighter than his own, are trying to see through his face, to reach his soul. "I don't know," she draws a breath. "Are we?"

He smoothes her silver hair. "I have seen a woman breaking her heart because of longing for a child – my cousin Dominique," he says. "I have seen another one losing her life to deliver a child – my cousin in-law Naomi. I don't want you to be either Naomi or Dominique. I want you to be you – Isabelle."

_And I want you safe_, he thinks. Deep down, he's even sort of relieved, because there won't be the slightest risk of Isabelle losing her life in childbirth, like Naomi has. But he knows that if he told her that now, she would not believe him. _One day, _I'll tell you, he thinks_. Just not now._

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**And that, my dear readers, was Al. Liked him? Hated him? I really want to know.**

8


	7. Lily Luna Potter

_Disclaimer: JKR owns everything._

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews, you really inspire me to write faster!**

Chapter 7

Lily Luna Potter

She has a lot of expectations to live up to and that is clear by her very name – Lily Luna Potter. _Lily Potter_, people say. _How nice of your parents to name you after your grandmother! You must be very proud_. She merely shrugs, which they take as confirmation. But the truth is that Lily isn't proud to be named after her grandmother, she isn't excited by it and she doesn't think it's a big deal – she has never met the woman and although she knows how brave and kind the first Lily Potter has been, to her, she is a stranger. How can she be proud of being named after someone she has never known? She likes the name itself, though. Lily. She thinks it sounds lovely.

Her second name, however, is a different matter. Lily _Luna_. Because, like the first Lily Potter, Luna Scamander is a hero, but, unlike her, she is alive and she has _always_ been a part of Lily's life. She's clever, an optimist, a believer in the strangest things possible, as brave as any Gryffindor, and _so_ loving and caring, dreamy, yet lively in that strange way of hers, kind to everybody, unable to hold a single grudge, yet ready to fight to death against those who threaten her friends or things that she thinks are worth defending, and Lily admires her greatly. She is more real to her than her long dead grandmother and Lily has always cherished the fact that she shares Luna's name and that Luna is her godmother.

Besides, Luna is one of those who just accept people the way they are. Lily isn't like that – she keeps trying to change them the way she wants them to be. She couldn't be like Luna in that respect and that makes her admire her godmother even more.

She will forever keep the fact that she is prouder of being named after Luna than being named after her grandmother a secret, though. She doesn't want to hurt her father.

While she grows up, she is always surrounded by boys – James, Al, Hugo, and so on. And no one treats her like a girl – she's more like their confident, their partner in games, their partner in crimes. She doesn't mind that – it makes her feel that she's an equal. And she isn't too boyish, because sometimes, when she feels like playing with her dolls (which doesn't happen too often, because she usually prefers using them like targets for the magical bow that Uncle George has given her), she can usually convince Hugo to keep her company, so she gets the better of both being a girl and being an equal of the boys in the family.

There is only one game that she absolutely detests. Well, she has to admit that under different circumstances, she would love to play brave knights and beautiful maidens with her brothers and cousins, but somehow, she _always_ ends up being the damsel in distress and that fact infuriates her. Why it is that James is never the said damsel? Or Al? Or Hugo? _That's because you're a __**girl**__, Lily_, they always say and it is so unfair. Lily is not pleased with it and she doesn't keep it a secret: after the third failed game in a row, her parents get used to keep eye on their wands for days afterwards.

Although these horrible prejudices, Lily loves her big family and loving her family means putting up with performing some duties: helping her mother cooking (or letting her to try and teach _her_ to cook), helping her grandmother with feeding the Weasley-Potter army on the usual Sunday dinner, finding Muggle objects for her Muggle-obsessed grandfather, performing a deafening charm on herself while babysitting Teddy's kids, for that is the only way for her to keep her hearing intact. (She thinks that it's retaliation for having been such a horrible child for Teddy to babysit.)

It also means positioning herself under a very awkward angle between Roxy and Al, with Hugo almost on her back, James trying to nestle under her arm, and Fred craning his neck from above her head, reporting them the news from his position in front of the keyhole of the room, where Rose is telling her parents that she is dating a certain blond guy who has friendly ways and a terrible family history and goes by the name of Scorpius Malfoy…

Loving her family means keeping herself well-informed and loving her skin the way it is means keeping that particular source of information a secret. Rose doesn't lose her temper often, but when she does, Al and Hugo sit quietly, and James frantically looks for a pretext for leaving…

So, Lily loves her family and she has never questioned their love for her or one another. That is why she can't understand Uncle George's preference to Victoire. Sure, he's very good at hiding it, but Lily can always see it. No, that isn't true: she cannot _see_ it, it is more that she can feel it, because he is always very careful not to make it obvious. Lily has heard the story of Victoire being born on the second anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts – the day when George had been admitted to St. Mungo's as an emergency case, and that he had barely made it. Was that it? She doesn't know and she never will, because Uncle George is the most blatant person she knows and if he wants to pretend that he doesn't do what he actually does, that means that he has a good reason for that.

Sometimes, it hurts a little, though. Because George is her favorite among all her uncles and Victoire is _his_ favorite.

The two years before she can board the Hogwarts Express are the longest ones in her life. She hates being the youngest one; she hates being alone. She is immensely grateful for Hugo – he is there and since he misses Rose as much as she misses James and Al, he is _always_ there (although he _still_ refuses to play the damsel in distress).

So, she is ecstatic, when she finally goes off to Hogwarts. She would have never expected that she would be afraid… only a little… well, maybe not so little… And she certainly would have never expected that Uncle Ron's words about not being Sorted into Gryffindor would mean disinheriting that have sounded so _funny_ two years ago, would seem so terrifying now.

So, she is very relieved, when, having barely touched her head, the Hat cries out, "GRYFFINDOR!" She takes it off and goes beaming to her brothers. And then, she feels a new fear: that Hugo won't join her at the Gryffindor table. She is amazed to find out that this fear is even stronger than the one about her own Sorting. Because Hugo has always been there, and he is supposed to be always there, and he cannot be, if he goes to Hufflepuff… or Ravenclaw… At least Slytherin is not a perspective for him because Hugo has a potential for cunning as big as a rabbit's… She deliberately takes a seat that is next to an empty chair and puts her hand protectively on the empty seat: she is demonstratively saving it for Hugo. And when he, after six endless minutes, _finally_ joins her at the table, she feels stupid for ever doubting his Gryffindor future.

She starts dating in her fourth year, but the relationship that will change her life forever does not start until the summer before her sixth year. She comes back home from a catastrophic date with the freshly graduated Will Mason and she is furious. She cannot believe herself – how could she have lost five whole months with that prick who was nothing but seriousness and 'we must think of our future'? She has wanted to celebrate her awesome OWLs results with him and all she got is 'I need to rest tonight, Lily. I am sorry. But you know that I've got a meeting with Miss Berkeley tomorrow morning, about my future training in her department, and I need to be clear-headed."

If that was a first, Lily would have understood him, maybe. The thing was, it wasn't a first. For quite a while, he has been talking about future and perspectives, and how it was worth it to sacrifice practically all your pleasures in the name of your prosperity twenty years ahead in the future. Sure, Lily knows that his ambition is based on abilities, that he is smart, that one day he will be a man of importance. But now… now he is eighteen, Lily is sixteen and she cannot help but think, _Now! Now! We are living now! Twenty years later, we may not be there anymore. Why shouldn't we celebrate my results with a wild party? Or have a romantic walk – now? I want to have my fun now, not when I am thirty or fourty!_

She enters the house and heads straight for the kitchen, where she finds both her mother and the blond head of someone who is evidently rummaging through the fridge. She feels herself smiling – she isn't sure who it is, but she has a fifty percent of being right. There are only two dirty-blond haired people who love inspecting their fridge. Too bad that they are identical. "What is he doing here?" her father growls from behind her, because it is a part of the game.

Lysander – or Lorcan – Scamander finally looks back, having found a big pot. "I am begging," he says and looks at her mother, while reaching for a spoon. "It is great, Mrs Potter," he goes on, his eyes closed in delight. Then, he looks at Lily and smiles. "If only your father were a gentleman and stepped off, I'd sweep your mum off her feet in a minute."

"That's enough," Harry growls, and the boy's grin widens. "Keep dreaming, puppy. And you – " He looks at his wife, "Next time this scoundrel comes to eat our food, you may provide him with clothing as well, why not?"

Lily looks at the Scamander boy, who keeps eating. "Are you looking for Al?" she asks.

He nods. "But he isn't here and won't come back until tomorrow, your mum says."

"Doesn't matter," Ginny says. "Lorcan is staying for dinner, right?" She smiles at him with affection.

He nods again, his mouth working busily. "What is that with boys and food?" Lily asks rhetorically and feels better for a first time in hours. It's refreshing to be with a boy her age, who doesn't act as if he were fifteen years older.

Lorcan must have noticed that there was something wrong with her, because he is unusually attentive to her the whole evening and is glad that she reacts positively. Somehow, they end up on a romantic walk under the moonlight and they celebrate their OWLs results with a kiss – their first one. It isn't the wild night of partying that Lily has envisioned this morning, but it is not worse – in fact, it is even better. Lorcan is serious, but not too much so. He is ambitious, but his ambition is only a part of his life, not his whole life. And he knows how to handle her – to be considerate when she needs him to be, and strong and stubborn when she needs him to be. That is, when she usually doesn't even know that she needs him to be strong and stubborn and realizes it later. Much later.

She loves that Lorcan knows her better than she knows herself, and she loves it when sometimes he says things that she cannot understand – that's one of the things that make him so special, and anyway, he can always make his point clear, when it _matters_.

Lorcan is the one who is first informed about her intention to become a reporter, and he is the only one who thinks it's right. In contrast, when she announces that to her family, everyone is shocked – not because of her choice of profession, although she had been expected to become _anything_ but that – but because of the position she would be filling – a reporter for Daily Prophet, replacing the retiring Rita Skeeter. She has never thought that she would be able to cause such an agitation in her family – that has always been James' area of expertise. Obviously Rita Skeeter was not popular with the Weasley-Potter clan. Not _at all_.

Lily is secretly glad for achieving the only thing she has always thought out of her reach – outshining James in giving their family apoplexy.

So, she becomes a reporter, and she starts a family. She doesn't even have to quit after the birth of her children – she can write her articles at home and when she needs to go to the editorial office, there is always someone willing to babysit. She isn't surprised – her family is big enough to fill the position.

The children especially adore James' babysitting days. Lily suspects that it is due mainly to those goddamned tricks of his that he so enjoys teaching them to. For herself, she is often to the verge of restricting James from babysitting if Jillian doesn't accompany him. Thanks God for Al, who makes an exemplary uncle. But then, it isn't that strange - out of the three Potter kids, Al has always been the quiet one, the thoughtful one, the one whose nice temper balanced his siblings' awful, _vocal_ ones. When Lily and James are angry, they yell, and rage, and break heads; when Al is angry, he speaks very softly, but so scornfully that the object of his anger feels like the lowest insect under creation. That is why Lily is so surprised the day James emerges from her fireplace with air of great concern. "Have you seen Al?" he asks.

His voice is so tensed that Lily looks at him with surprise and the baby who is sucking on her breast lets go of the nipple and tries to turn his head and see what is going on. "No," she says. "Why? What happened? Sit down"

Her brother runs a hand through his already messy hair. He doesn't sit down. "We went to Isabelle's flat and Al opened the door with his own key. We saw her with another man."

Lily freezes. "No," she says firmly, "you didn't."

"The hell we didn't!" James explodes. "He was there, just emerging from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel."

"Didn't she offer an explanation?" Lily is trying to talk not angrily, but thoughtfully. Her son feels her growing fury and stops sucking.

James looks embarrassed. "Um, it didn't quite come to this."

Lily gives him a sharp look. "And what is this supposed to mean?"

"There was an unpleasant scene."

"Did he yell at her?" Lily asked. "Wait, we are talking about Al here. Did he chill her to crystals?"

James sighs. "No, your first guess was closer to the truth. Al went berserk. When was the last time you saw Al berserk?"

She considers that. "Um. Never."

"Bingo!" He snaps his fingers. "He was furious. He yelled at her, hit him and left without as much as a single word. That was three hours ago and I've been looking for him ever since."

Lily is amazed. "He hit him? _Al_? Our nice, sensible Al?"

James nods. "Never knew the kid had such an amazing straight one."

She gives him a suspicious look. "Is that _pride_ I'm hearing in your voice, James?"

Her brother shrugs. _Guys are weird_, she decides. _They take pride in most absurd things imaginable_. She looks down at her son who has just started to suck again, his small face showing pure bliss. Even he looks proud. _All men are alike_.

James sighs. "I suppose I'm going to keep looking for him," he says.

"Wait!" Lily says hurriedly. "I am almost done here; just wait for a few minutes, and I'll leave him to Lorcan and come with you."

Finally, they find Al in his flat, more than a little drunk, and they are immensely relieved to see that he is safe. He acknowledges their presence with a wave of the bottle that he is holding. "I though you might drop in, that's why I bough enough Firewhiskey for all of us," he says in a friendly voice. "Serve yourselves."

"Thanks," James says dryly, "that's very kind of you."

Al grins. "It is, isn't it?" he drawls. "Come on, James, drink it and then we may go and find him. We will beat him black and blue together. Like in good old times."

There is a dull pain in his eyes that makes Lily grit her teeth and start planning an awful fate for a certain part-Veela ex of his.

"Why the hell was she hugging that squirt?" All suddenly asks.

"I have no idea," James shrugs and then, as if he was talking to someone in their right, sober mind, he asks, "Why didn't you ask her?"

"Wouldn't you have asked if you were in my place?"

James pursed his lips. "No. I would have broken his arms and legs the Muggle way. And then I _would_ have asked. But that's me. You seem to be more impulsive than me and that is quite something."

Al snorts and Lily decides that Isabelle is a dead woman.

The next day she and James come again and with a quick _Aguamenti_ she almost drowns Al – and his clothes – in water, but that doesn't matter: he is suddenly sober and after being dried off, he is ready for the Weasley family dinner. They take them there personally, just to be sure that he won't diverge to the nearest pub.

The first person they see in the Burrow is Isabelle and Lily is ready to hex her right there. The nerve of that woman! Then, she feels James' body stiffen next to her. "What's going on here?" he mutters. "That's him!"

There is only one _him_ to who James could be possibly referring to – a brown-haired stranger with cerulean blue eyes and equally blue left cheek…

"This is Etienne," Victoire introduces him. "Isabelle's brother."

"Bloody hell," James mutters. Al looks too startled to say even this much.

"This is Lily Scamander," their unsuspecting cousin goes on with the introductions. "And these are her brothers, James and Al."

"Al," Etienne repeats, looking at the younger Potter with a mix of hostility, wonder, and amusement. "And to think that Vicky and Dom always say you're the sanest of the whole clan."

"I am," Al says.

Etienne rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure," he says, pointing at his cheek.

"Why haven't you had it healed?" Lily asks curiously, all plans for making Isabelle suffer gone.

"Because Louis convinced me against it. He didn't tell why, though, and Isabelle refused to talk about the madman who attacked me all of a sudden, so I had no idea what all that was about."

Lily looks at Louis, who grins. "When Etienne told me about the madman, I realized what must have happened," he explains. "I didn't want to miss the fun. Oh, I'd love to have been there from the very first! "

Victoire, who has listened to the whole conversation with a bemused air, finally comes to understanding. "Why do I always miss the interesting bits!" she exclaims.

For the next week, Al's life is quite the muddle. Isabelle still refuses to talk to him. She has even changed the lock, so Al cannot enter her flat without her permission. "Present her with flowers," James advises. "Grovel at her feet and ask her to forgive you."

Al looks at his brother suspiciously. Lily thinks that he can't decide whether it is a really helpful advice or simply another one of James' tricks. "I will not grovel," he finally says.

"Oh you will," James predicts. "You'd better get used to it. I've got more practice than you."

Al and Lily share a look, picturing their big brother groveling at Jillian's feet. "May I watch the next time?" she asks.

"No," James answers firmly.

Lily has no idea whether Al did the recommended groveling, but a few months later, there is a wedding and she is very happy to attend it. She is glad that Al has found someone who he loves so much that jealousy can make him lose his famous self-control and turn into a green-eyed monster – literally, in his case.

Lily still cannot fully believe in the existence of that Al who James has described to her – that Al who she has seen with her very eyes, and it's a good thing that she has, for otherwise she would have never believed James.

Years pass, and when she gets older, she can finally admit something that has always been a source of bitterness and anguish for her: at 2nd May, she doesn't feel anything.

No, that isn't true. She feels sorry for the grief of her parents, of her whole family, of all the people who have lost someone and who are _suffering_ and she _sees_ their suffering. But it isn't the same grief. She cannot mourn the fallen heroes themselves, because she never knew them. To her, they are only protagonists in the often repeated stories and faces in the faded photographs. How can she mourn the loss of strangers?

Logically, she knows that it isn't her fault and yet, she still feels that the dead deserve more than she can give them.

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**Well, that was my take on the last Potter kid. What do you think? **

9


	8. Rose Weasley

_Disclaimer: I really hate writing these. Nothing belongs to me and no money is being made (although I desperately need some)._

**Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, they mean more than you know,**

Chapter 8

Rose Weasley

1. She loves her family more than anything and it's really a good thing, because there are so many of them – she has the feeling that half of her life is spent into the close company of one or another Weasley or Potter. They are a merry, obtrusive, horrifying, adorable crowd and she cannot imagine her life without any of them, even her Uncle Percy, who really isn't so much like her mother, no matter what anyone says. For one thing, Hermione knows how to smile. But Rose cannot imagine being with them all the time – sometimes, they are simply too much for her to stand. It wouldn't have been this bad, if Hugo was more like her and their mum, but unfortunately, he's so loud, so unruly, such a _boy_ that there are moments when she wants to strangle him. Especially when he grows up, in body at least, and from his new height of a head over her, he starts questioning her authority. She is furious – who does he think he is? He is supposed to do whatever she says, sometimes quite grudgingly, but do it anyway, because she knows better than him what is good for him. But he won't, now. Rose yells and hisses like an angry cat, but to no avail: Hugo still does what he thinks is right, and somehow that always coincides with whatever he wants at the moment. He doesn't do his homework in time, he uses too much of their Uncle George's products on his classmates, he spends more time in detention than not and so on. _It could have been worse, _Rose reassures herself_. There could have been two of him_. She loves him and wouldn't wish him away, never, but she could never stand another one of him. So, she's glad that she doesn't have more siblings. Besides, having so many cousins is almost the same thing.

Not quite the same, though.

Hugo is the brother who is as different from her as he might be, and Al is the best friend who is as different from her as he might be. Yet, their differences with Al are somehow easier to tolerate than her differences with Hugo. Al isn't a mischiefmaker like Hugo, or Lily, or James, of Fred, or half of the family. Well, of course he is, but it's never on purpose. James may claim that he never asks for trouble, that trouble finds him, but it won't be true. Al never says that trouble finds him, but in fact, it's the absolute truth. He never _means_ to cause havoc, it just happens. He really never meant to split himself in two – he was just convinced that he knew how to Apparate. He didn't mean to give a Transfiguration essay to the Charms teacher – it was just that the subjects of both essays had sounded quite close to each other, so he simply wrote what he knew. Rose has never had the heart to be angry with him, although he always gets her into these absurd starts – she knows that he was even sorrier than her when she lost her E grade in Potions for not handing her potion in time, when he tripped over the cauldron and splashed its contents all over, or when they lost 50 points for Gryffindor, when they went deep into the Forbidden Forest, hoping to see a Centaur. True, the last one really angered her a lot, but not with Al – she was angry with herself, for letting him convince her. She should have known better than listening to her dreamer of a cousin – after all, he hasn't dragged her by force.

Yes, Al is a dreamer – quite surprisingly, given the fact that Uncle Harry is quite level-headed and Aunt Ginny is the most prosaic woman Rose knows, except for her own mother, maybe. But he is, and nothing could be more impractical to Rose than the inclination of dreaming. Yet, she doesn't judge him – she just accepts him the way he is. That's why she's so shocked to realize that he doesn't feel her the same way – that he needs to _analyze_ their friendship. In all honesty, she's more than a little insulted – does it mean that he wouldn't have been friends with her? That their differences meant more to him than all their years as best friends? She knows that he probably didn't mean that, but it hurts all the same. And it's stupid of the ever so practical Rose Weasley to pay such attention to this stupid mood of Al's, but she does.

Yes, Rose is all practicality – and brains. Everyone says she's inherited her mother's brains, ever since she started talking in brief sentences at the age of eleven months. She's been labeled as the wise one even before she went to Hogwarts – at the station, people craned their necks to see her better through the mist and whispered about one or another success of her mother's. The Sorting Hat grinned – Rose was sure – and told her that it hadn't had faced such a hard choice since her mother's Sorting. Again like her mother, Rose went to Gryffindor and succeeds in all her classes, but no one is impressed – no one but her classmates, that was it; the teachers just keep saying that she is her mother's daughter and the situation at home is no different: everyone, from Dad to Uncle Percy, agrees that Rose is Hermione reborn. And that sometimes makes her sad: why no one can see that she is _trying_? That she is putting an _effort_? Everyone acts as if Hermione has found a spell that has let her pour all her knowledge directly into her daughter's head. No one seems to think that Rose has even the smallest part in her own success!

Is it her brains that let her see the war in a different way? She is not sure. All she knows is that the war isn't the heroic battles that her brother and her cousins love listening about; the war isn't the memorial that stands, tall and impressive, right in front of the Hogwarts castle, with her Uncle Fred and Teddy's parents' names on it. Or at least, it isn't that alone. To her, the war is the way everyone pretends to be happy at Victoire's birthday, but no one is; the war is the way Teddy looks when complete strangers try to express their sympathies for his loss and he doesn't know how to react, because he doesn't _feel_ the loss and yet he knows that he should feel something more than what he actually does; but he can't. The war is the way her grandmother's voice sometimes trembles, when she says the name of Rose's cousin Fred. And Rose fervently wishes that she would never get to learn what else war means.

Rose loves reading and she also loves Quidditch. That's quite amazing for some people, because, as Uncle George puts it, "You cannot love both reading and Quidditch, Rose. It isn't _normal_." Then, he grins and adds, "Pay me no attention, it's just that I've become accustomed to your mum and your Uncle Percy. These two can lose themselves in a book and not notice that the world has come to end, but for the life of theirs, you cannot make them throw a single Quaffle." Rose grins back, because she's found at least one thing that makes her different from her mother.

Yet, she could never lose herself in a Quidditch game for long, so maybe she and her mum aren't so different, after all.

For a while, she's quite jealous of Scorpius Malfoy. No, the reason isn't the usual one. Scorpius can have all the girls who keep chasing him, for all Rose cares. She's jealous because of his friendship with Al. Because Al has _chosen_ Scorpius to be his friend, unlike Rose, who has been predestined to be his best friend before they were even born. That shouldn't matter, of course, but given the fact that Al has started analyzing his friendship with Rose, it does matter to her, because it probably matters to him.

Later, when she's sure that there isn't anything to threaten her position, she doesn't mind the friendship of the two boys. Secretly, she's even relieved, because she has no desire to talk with Al about girls and boys' stuff. It's a gruesome task and she's glad that Scorpius is there to take it. And then she suddenly isn't so glad, because she doesn't want Scorpius to talk about girls – she doesn't want him even to think about girls. Other girls. Then he invites her to Hogsmeade and from this day on, he's strictly forbidden to talk to Al about girls – about Rose. Not that Al is particularly willing to learn the details about their budding relationship, anyway. And if Scorpius tries to talk about _other_ girls, he'll be risking losing his head and he knows it. He and Al might be best friends, but Al's loyalties lie with Rose first and Scorpius is well aware of that.

She doesn't really believe that it would last forever. As it turns out, it does, but she doesn't know that at sixteen. She thinks it will fade with time by itself. And yet, fading or not, she needed to tell her parents before somebody else do. She doesn't delude herself that she and Scorpius can keep it quiet – they are in the centre of all school rumours, now, and their classmates won't even think before telling _their_ parents about this. Once the parents heard, it would be only a matter of time before the news reached Ron and Hermione.

So, she tells them herself. She's fully prepared for her dad's shouts and her mother's attempts to calm him down, so she's shocked to see that the roles are reversed: her father just sits in his armchair with white face, clearly not believing that she was being serious, and her mother started to yell. There are very few things that could make Hermione Weasley lose her balance, but when she does, it's always spectacular: her face turns brighter than Rose's hair and she starts screeching in a way that would make Grandma Molly proud. After a while, Rose simply stops listening, but there are occasional words that break their way through her head with the power of a troll club: 'pureblood fanatics', 'Death Eaters', 'don't know what you're landing yourself into," and "Mudblood' – words that Rose has never heard from Hermione. It seems that when she's directly involved, her politics about 'forgiving and forgetting' just flies out through the window.

For the next two weeks, every adult in the family acts as if she's dangerously ill and needs nursing back to health. Every conversation somehow includes Death Eaters and how badly wretched the Malfoy family is and how that nice Joulson boy has professed his interest in Rose. The only effect these efforts has is making Rose more mulish than ever. _Look at them, _she thinks,_ only a month ago they all sang my praises and now they act as if I am an imbecile who cannot control her own love life? Not quite!_ So, she stubbornly holds her own, despite the fact that the disapproval of her family hurts her more than she's willing to admit. She is a Gryffindor, is she not?

The first time she and Scorpius are together is the same summer. Her parents are invited to Uncle Bill's house, and the kids take the chance to throw a party of their own. Scorpius is among the invited, of course, although her mother purses her lips when she hears that. They have a wonderful time, lots of Butterbeer and so on, and when everybody has left – except for the three Potters, who are going to stay the night, Rose and Scorpius creep in her room, having taken the decision to bring their relationship to a new level.

He is her first and Rose knows that it's going to hurt. She just hasn't realized just how much it would hurt, until they hear a hurried footsteps running towards the door. "What happened?" she asks' her throat hurts from the cries of pain that has involuntarily left her lips.

"I think you were quite – err, vocal," Scorpius asks just when someone starts pounding at the door and Hugo's voice asks frantically, "Rose, are you all right?"

"Move aside, Hugo! He's killing her! _Alohomora_!"

The door bangs opened, revealing Hugo and James' furious faces that shine red as soon as they see the picture in front of them: Rose trying to snuggle deeper into the blankets, her hair falling wildly, her left hand handing the covering to her breasts, and Scorpius half-risen in bed, his top half completely naked, both glaring at them.

"What are you doing here?" Rose hisses. She's never felt so humiliated in her life.

"I – " Hugo stammers, "we thought – We heard you crying and – We didn't think – "

"Yes, that much is obvious!" she snaps. "Now, I want you both out. Immediately!"

James and Hugo turn around and leave in a speed, remarkable for people who had recently consumed about half of their weight again in food. Rose buries her head in the pillow, but even so, she can feel Scorpius' doubtful look and she knows that he has just fully come to the conclusion that being with her means putting up with the entire Weasley family. She wonders whether he thinks that she's worth all the disadvantages of the situation.

He leaves early in the morning, and she puts her nightgown on and goes to the kitchen. Surprisingly, Hugo and James are already awake, waiting for her. "We just wanted to apologize," Hugo says hurriedly. "About yesterday. We were just concerned about you, but we know we had no right to burst in like this."

"Really?" Her voice is cold.

"Yes," James assures her. "We'll never do anything of this sort again. We are deeply sorry."

"Thanks," Rose says. Suddenly, she doesn't want them to leave her on her own, to promise that they won't meddle in her life again. They have always meddled. They love her. Even yesterday, they did it because they love her.

But there is no need to worry: they just feel awkward for interrupting her in such a way and in such a moment. Soon enough, they will be themselves again and poke their noses into her affairs.

She is right.


	9. Hugo Weasley

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.

**Hi again! I hope you all had a great Christmas and New Year's Eve. I don't know about**** you, but it is the custom here that for the New Year's Eve, we make a cheese pastry with 'lots' put in it. Whatever you draw out is your 'fortune' for the new year. I got many books (yeah, as if I needed a cheese pastry to tell me **_**that**_**) and a travel abroad (I'm starting to pack tomorrow, just in case). And do you know what my mother got? She got the money… and my brother proclaimed himself very happy, because 'she's going to earn it, and I'm going to spend it'. Oh the injustice! Is there a similar custom in your country, my dear reader? I'd like to know. **

Anyway, enough rambling. Thanks for all your reviews. I'm starting with Hugo's chapter right now.

Chapter 9

Hugo Weasey

Since he was very little, Hugo knew that he belonged to two worlds.

The first one was defined by the house of his parents, where his mother idly waved her wand around and the potatoes started peeling themselves, the laundry started washing itself, and the coffee machine turned on on its own, while Hermione was busy reading and amending the newest law about the magical creatures; treatment; by Rose falling from the apple tree and bouncing off high in the air without as much as a scratch where a broken arm should have been; by his uncles making tables to fight off in the Burrow (much to his aunts' irritation, for such behavior was _not only_ childish, but extremely noisy); by degnoming the garden; by trying to steal his parents' wands each time they were not looking at him.

The second world was the one which his Granger grandparents introduced him to: the world of television, hide and seek, cinema and theatre and (to his horror) – Muggle dentistry. The Muggle world, in short.

Hugo has been taught not to disrespect the background of his mother, and he was proud of both his sets of grandparents. He knew how lucky he was to have access to both Muggle and wizarding world – even James doesn't have that – and felt quite at ease in both of them.

Hogwarts changed this.

Hugo loves his school and wouldn't give it away for any other, but it is the place where he realizes that the balance between the two worlds he lives in has been disrupted. In Hogwarts, he's taught how to be a capable wizard _all the time_ and there is no break, like there had been at home, for him to adapt himself again to the Muggle world. He supposes he could try it anyway, during his summer breaks, but the problem is, the Muggle world is developing alongside with him, but in a different track. He cannot follow the newest technologies, the last Muggle news, so he's falling behind the Muggle kids. He starts feeling uneasy in Muggles' company, for he is afraid that he's going to say something inadequate. Besides, he doesn't have so much things he could share with his grandparents – they wouldn't understand what he's talking about. That's the way it is, he supposes, and it's only natural. That doesn't mean he loves them less or that he would see them more rarely. But he feels more than a little sad, seeing one of his two worlds going out of his reach.

When he thinks about separation, he sees that there is another kind of difference that defines his life: the difference between male and female mind, brains and action, Ron and Hugo, on one hand, and Hermione and Rose, on the other one.

Not that his parents play favourites – they don't (although both Hugo and Rose like to say it, when they are enraged at them). It's just that as much Rose takes after their mother, Hugo takes after their father. Rose and Hermione like to think everything out, before they decide how to act; Hugo and Ron instinctively do what they feel is right (well, ever so often it turns out that it has been wrong, but come on, Rose and Hermione have their fair share of mistakes, too, and they have it _after_ their careful consideration, mind you). Rose actually _likes_ to read and study; Hugo agrees to do his Maths homework only after a lot of pleading, threats, shouts, and fluffy rabbit ears (and not the ones that disappear with time; these ones will be off when his mother decides to take them off). Rose must have been a great librarian in his past life, for she rarely leaves the library; Hugo can hardly be convinced to get inside – for him, _inside_ means foul air, artificial light, and a Transfiguration essay. Yeah, he's Ron Weasley's son, all right.

That's why he's always felt closer to his father than his mother. They are of one kind.

So are he and Lily – only, their common kind is different to the one he shares with his father. He rarely thinks of her as his cousin – she's his best, maybe even his best_est_ friend and she is just always there – always has been, always will be. Or so he hopes.

Yet, he cannot help but wish that he was closer to his male cousins – James, Fred, Al. The two years gap – or even three, with James – seems such a big distance. They never take him seriously. To them, he's just an annoying kid and he feels very disappointed. He thinks that will never change, but miraculously, it does – when they are all grown up and the age gap seems insignificant. They really _talk_ to him, include him and see him as an equal and it's every but as wonderful as he had imagined it would be.

But his very best friend is still Lily, by no competition.

When he grows up, however, he starts feeling a kind of resentment for his parents. Which kid needs parents who are _so_ famous? _Hey, you've got the wrong guy_, he wants to say when people stare at him and whisper about his family or worse, start bombarding him with questions. _I did nothing heroic, remember? And anyway, the war ended well over twenty years ago, so let it be, will you?_ Unfortunately, they won't.

Really, couldn't his parents have been more _thoughtful_? Couldn't they have thought that they would have kids one day – kids who would be stared at even when they are going to the bathroom? What kind of a person would do that to a child? He knows how illogical he's being, but that doesn't prevent him from feeling this way. Especially in his fifth year, when things start to get serious and he realizes that his whole future might depend on his OWLs results. Everyone seems to give the credit for the suddenly improvement of his grades and his fantastic OWLs marks – only Outstanding and Exceeding Expectations – to his parents' influence on his teachers. His indignation reaches its highest point, when, after mentioning that he'd like to work in the field of international relations, his mother says that she can contact Catherine Godwin, the boss of that department, and ask her arrange something for him – maybe some kind of probation or...

Hermione never gets to finish, because Hugo starts yelling. He's fed up with his parents' fame and influence, he's been stared at, envied at, and remarked upon out of pure malice more than enough and he'll be damned, if he lets such an important thing as his career development being made not by him, but his mother. He can achieve it himself, he says, and Hermione tries to tell something, but he doesn't let her. He yells that he doesn't need mothering and pampering and that he isn't either a fool or a weakling, so he can take care of himself. He goes on and on, making his mother cry, but he's too angry to care.

He applies for the desired training and he's approved – without his mother's meddling, or so he hopes. He's happy and proud. And alone, because he feels that he cannot live with his parents anymore. He needs to be self-dependent, so he can develop a personality of his own and stop being only Ron and Hermione Weasley's son. He studies, he works at a Muggle bar, so he can pay his bills, and he's exhausted, but happy, because every day he proves that he can be only Hugo. Who can manage without his family's protection.

When he's two years into his training, his tutor chooses him for probation in Italy – a chance that every trainee has longed for. Hugo is deliriously happy… until he sees the Daily Prophet, where his probation is the leading news. And no, his _own_ name and personality aren't the main topic of the article. Any surprises here?

He's furious. His father sends him an owl, but Hugo doesn't send an answer. He is afraid that if he sees his parents right now, he'll say the unforgivable.

The next morning, someone knocks at his door. Hugo makes sure it isn't his father _or_ his mother standing outside, but it's Uncle Bill. That makes little difference, but Hugo lets him in anyway and offers him a drink, which Bill accepts.

"So," he starts calmly after a while, "how long are you planning to keep this nonsense going?"

Hugo doesn't answer, doesn't even object: his behavior is silly and he knows that.

But his Uncle still waits for reply. "I don't know," Hugo finally says. "I just feel so angry. Why do they always have to meddle everywhere?"

Bill almost smiles. "Excuse me? As long as I know, your parents don't work for the Daily Prophet. Lily does. Go on and blame her as well."

Hugo drains his own cup in a single gulp. "I don't blame anyone," he says, unconvincingly.

"Really?" Bill asks and takes a long sip of his own glass. "You know, it really makes me angry to look how a fine boy like you throws away his advantages."

"What advantages?" Hugo asks aggressively. "You mean my parents?"

"Of course," Bill answers immediately. "Why do you think they gave you the probation?"

"Maybe because I'm good at this?" Hugo drawls sarcastically. "Has this thought ever occurred to you?"

His Uncle looks at him for a long time. "You are good at it, Hugo," he says. "You are smart, enterprising, and quick-thinking. But there are hundred of guys, enterprising and smart like you. At this point, the only thing that makes you stand out among them is the fact that you're the son of Ron and Hermione. That's the only thing, believe me."

"So it's all right if I receive things just because of my parents?"

"For now, yes," Bill answers directly. "I am not saying that you aren't good enough on your own. But people just don't know it yet. And they may never know it, if you keep behaving like this."

"I don't want it this way," Hugo insists. "I want to succeed alone, just being myself."

Bill's smile is full of sympathy. "There's nothing wrong with that," he says patiently. "But think of all the other guys who are trying to do the same. There isn't a place for everyone at the top – only for the special ones. And those who make you special, Hugo, are your parents. You should use that, exploit this advantage fully, until you've proven yourself to be good enough. But you should start from somewhere and you'll need all the help you can get. For now, your biggest help are your parents' names. Use them, Hugo! Don't be a fool."

Hugo is furious, but not enough no ignore the truth in his Uncle's statement. He's very grateful to Bill for finally opening his eyes.

Unlike his sister, Hugo is not sticking with his school crush, Anne Harrows. He falls in love two or three times and he almost stick up with a pretty Italian witch, but his brains kicked out right in time. What can he say? He likes girls and girls like him.

But they like Fred more.

_She_ likes Fred more.

Her name is Caroline, she's a classic dark-haired beauty and a Muggle childhood friend of Jillian, and she's discovered about the wizarding world by chance, when she drops at Jillian when she and James are babysitting Lily's son and he makes his hated carrots disappear. Since then, she's fascinated with wizards and with one particular wizard. Fred Weasley.

Who seems to like her back. Just not as much as Hugo does.

He cannot believe his luck when Fred suddenly withdraws. First confused and hurt, Caroline slowly brightens and one day, she even accepts Hugo's invitation for going out.

The rest is history.

Two years later she glows, while she's telling him that she's pregnant.

Hugo is terrified. "How the hell did it happen?" he asks sharply. Her smile slowly dies.

"I told you that I needed to stop the preventive spells, for they had started having a bad effect on me. It must have happened in the first week. What, do you think I did it on purpose?"

"You know what I think about having children so early. I thought you felt this way too."

"I did! I just had to change my opinion, given the circumstances."

"Well, I haven't changed mine," he snaps.

A great quarrel follows, leaving both of them angry at hurt. Hugo slams the door and goes for his scheduled male evening with his cousins.

Unfortunately, there is a small problem: Louis' babysitter has been hit by a nasty spell and instead of looking after the baby, she's currently looking the ceiling of her room at St. Mungo's, so they have to stay at Louis'. Hugo doesn't mind: there is a lot of Firewhiskey and butterbeer, his cousins are there, and Arthur is good today, so he doesn't throw his vegetables at them, falls asleep quickly and doesn't disrupt them at all.

"What the hell happened to you?" James asks as soon as the kid leaves the room.

"The hell _happened_ to me," Hugo answers grimly. "The worst thing possible."

"And that is – ?" Al wants to know.

"Caroline. I never expected it of her. I thought we were being honest with each other."

The other men in the room exchange a look. "She left you for someone else?" Louis assumes.

"What? No. of course she didn't. Merlin, I wish she did!"

"All right, what on earth did she do?" James demands.

"I'll tell you right away. I'll tell you what she did." Hugo strides in the room. "She got pregnant."

His words are met by gravely silence, so he looks at his cousins. "Did you hear what I said? She is pregnant."

"Err – congratulations?" Fred dares and at Hugo's look quickly corrects himself, "No, forget about the congratulations."

"But what's so awful about this?" Al asks. "I don't understand."

"I know you don't," Hugo snorts. "We had an agreement. No children yet and certainly no children without discussing it beforehand."

"Then how did she get pregnant?" Louis asks. "I didn't take her for a liar."

"She isn't a liar, Louis. It was an _accident_."

"Then what's the big problem?" James has decided to get to the bottom of this.

"The problem is that she's pregnant and she's bloody _excited_ about it! She is on her way to start choosing names. She's bought at least ten books about pregnancy." Each word makes Hugo's fury grow. "Do you know how she told me the great news? You don't, do you? She had prepared a dinner – a dinner, when we cook only during the weekend! Candles, crystal glasses, good food, a new tablecloth and even flowers in the middle!"

"Oh no, not flowers!" Fred takes a dramatic breath. "Merlin's pants, this woman is insane. She belongs to St. Mungo's ward for patients with mental disorders."

"Shut up, Fred! I didn't expect of you to understand."

"You want us to pity you?"

The anger in Louis' voice makes him blink. "No… yes. I… no. I just wanted you to understand…"

"I'll tell you what I understand. You got a girl who loves you. A nice, clever, caring woman who loved you enough to accept our world for her own. Who agreed to lie to her friends, her family, her employers to keep our existence a secret. Who _lives_ in a lie every time she is with her Muggle friends. Who was willing to accept all of us – your noisy, obtrusive, overwhelming family who doesn't know what the words _private life_ mean, since she loves you and doesn't want you to give up anything, although she gave up so much. And that isn't good enough for you? You're coming here, acting like a madman just because she accidentally got pregnant and dares to be happy about having a baby?"

"I didn't say that. I just – " Hugo looks away, his face burning. "I haven't planned – "

"That's your problem." Angrier than he has expected, Louis stands up. "Everything should be in perfect order for Hugo's plans. Well, cousin, I've got a news for you. Life is a mess."

"I know. I expected – "

"And if you think yours is fucked up, then you're welcome to try mine. Try to have nothing." His voice sounds bitterly. "All your hopes and dreams erased literally for one night, life, the way you've known it, ended. Try to have the most perfect wife in the world and then kill her with your love. Try to come back every night, knowing that there is no one expecting you, that all the problems are waiting for you and you alone to resolve them. Try to explain to your son why he doesn't have a mother like the other kids do." He goes to the fireplace and looks at the flames, while his cousins are silently watching him. "Try to arrange your whole life to the accidents and surprises of raising a two-years old alone, crawl to bed every night, wondering what to do to make things better. And then come here, expecting sympathy."

"I'm sorry," Hugo's voice is barely audible. "Louis, I am sorry."

"No." Tired and slightly ashamed, Louis sitsback on his chair. "I should be sorry. I don't' know where all this came from." He closes his eyes for a moment. "Yes, I know. Maybe I just envy you." He smiles slightly. "Or maybe I think you're stupid."

"Am I?" Hugo asks, looking at his cousins.

"Yes," comes the unanimous reply, but Hugo can't accept it. Not yet.

He needs to get out, so he accepts a proposal to return to Italy for a mission. He makes sure that Caroline has everything she needs, he arranges the bills for the flat to be paid off by his account in Gringotts and he knows that Caroline will have people to rely on, his parents mostly. They love Caroline. All his relatives love her.

He, however, has not expected that he'll be literally unable to hear anything about her. He feels like someone has cast a spell on his relatives that prevents them from even mentioning her name. He knows who the mastermind behind this is – his mother. But he won't let her win. He won't come back. No matter how worried he is. And no matter how much he misses Caroline. Besides, they will inform him once the baby is born.

Won't they?

He returns exactly eight months later and goes to his parent's house to find only his mother, ready for going off. She looks at him and smiled. "Hugo!" she exclaims and hugs him.

"Where is Dad?" he asks.

"He's at St. Mungo's," Hermione answers.

Hugo looks at her, suddenly frightened. "What's wrong with him?"

"Nothing."

"Then?"

"Nothing is wrong with him," his mother repeated, looking at him very sternly. "But in St. Mungo's, there is a young woman in labour and since the baby's father isn't here, your father was the one who drove her there. I expect that right now, he's striding in the halls, looks at his watch and laying a bet with your uncles about the baby's sex. I was just heading for the hospital myself."

"I'll come with you," Hugo says.

Just like he has expected, St. Mungo is full of Weasleys and Potters. Caroline's parents aren't here and neither are any of her friends. With a pang of guilt, Hugo realizes that she hasn't informed them – there is no keeping the secret if her Muggle friends see the magical hospital.

"Look who the cat has dragged here." Jillian's eyes dig holes in him. "Did you finally come to your senses, or what?"

"Kind of. How is she?"

"Isn't it a little late to ask about that _now_?"

"Come on, Jillian, I really want to know."

"Go and see for yourself." His father's voice is level, so Hugo can assume either the better or the worst outcome possible with the same probability. The memory of another day like this one, in that same hall, suddenly comes back to him – the day Louis's son was born, the day when Naomi died.

But Caroline isn't dead. She's just sleeping – no, her eyes are narrowed into almost invisible slits, but she inspects the baby who lies next to her. Rosy skin, long lashes, almost no hair – the baby doesn't care about being inspected. All she cares about is sleeping and from time to time meowing like a kitten.

She's perfect.

"Look who has dropped by," Caroline says. She is so tired that she doesn't even have the strength to lash out at him.

Two days later, she has that strength. And James gives one of his pearls of wisdom – the advice that he always give. "Grovel at her feet and ask her to forgive you."

In two months' time James' advice actually works. Amazingly. Hugo thinks that even James is amazed, but he doesn't ask him – he's too happy to care.

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**A. N. Thanks for all your reviews. I hope you'll leave me more. By the way, does anyone else have a problem with the traffic stats, or is it only me?**


	10. Fred Weasley II

_Disclaimer: Do I need one?_

**Thanks for all your reviews, you really keep my spirits up.**

Chapter 10

Fred Weasley (the second)

Fred loves his name. He loves being named after his long-dead heroic uncle. He loves looking at the pictures and seeing another Fred, not unlike him, waving back at him. He thinks it's an honour to be given this other Fred's name.

It doesn't mean that he doesn't feel uneasy at times, though. He despises it when after the History of Magic lesson about the last war – which consists mainly of 'Potter this and Potter that' and 'Weasley this and Weasley that' – he inevitably comes across an excited kid who asks him what it feels to be named after a war hero. What the hell is it supposed to feel like? He still feels like himself. What do they expect to hear – that he and his Uncle share a soul, as well as a name? Really, do they need to be so _dumb_?

He hates it when the others, and mostly his grandmother, sometimes have trouble saying his name. And yet, Fred knows that the one everyone assumes is most affected by the shared name doesn't feel it this way. No, his Dad might have named him after his twin, but he _knows_ that Fred is his own person, no matter how much he resembles his namesake in looks and even more in mind. George has never had the slightest trouble saying his son's name or treating him with a mix of paternal sternness and conspiratorial lenience. Fred realizes that many of his relatives think it's because his father tries to hold to his relationship of always guilty conspirators with his brother, but he knows better. It has nothing to do with the first Fred, it's just the merry recognition of a kindred soul – a kindred _troublemaker_ soul.

Roxanne is another troublemaker soul, he suspects. Unfortunately, she's just that – a kindred soul, not a real troublemaker – she lacks the physical capacity for being one. Fred loves her, of course, but he has to admit that sometimes he cannot stand her. She's the pampered princess not only of his parents, but of their whole numerous family. Sometimes, Fred gets off cheap, if his Dad is in a good mood, but Roxanne _always_ gets away with anything. And he resents her for that, if only a little.

He isn't sure how he knows it – he certainly can't remember his parents or anyone, actually, talking about that. But they must have done so, for he knows with absolute certainty that it is because of him. It started long ago, longer than Fred can remember – right after they were born. Fred was born first – big, red-haired, wriggly and crying loud. Roxanne was born _hours_ later – small, dark-skinned, silent and out of breath. Ever since then, Fred has been the healthy and vital one and Roxy has been the fragile and endangered one. There were problems with her lungs; there were others, with her heart. No healer in the world would dare to work on her lungs because of the heart problems; no one would take the risk of doing something for the heart because of the lungs. When Fred was little, he accepted that without questioning, but later, he started wondering why his twin sister wasn't like him, why she couldn't run or take part in his and his cousins' rough plays, why she was constantly taking potions and visiting St. Mungo's. Then, his parents explained to him that Roxy was ill and she needed precautions. Fred nodded and accepted it. Since he was five at that time, it didn't occur to him to ask what else she would not be able to participate in. This question comes to his mind years later and he doesn't like the answer at all. There are too many things Roxy would be deprived of and he knows it is because of him. Not that his sister has ever told him anything. They get along just fine, most of the time – constantly quarreling and arguing, but come on, are there _any_ siblings who don't do that? Sometimes, Fred is really convinced that Aunt Ginny will kill Uncle Ron – or Fred's father, for that matter. So, he and Roxy do get along, despite the fact that she can only watch him through the window and give him cheers, while he's making a snowman in December. And despite the fact that if she breaks a vase, she will only get a scolding for being careless, while if he breaks an ewer, he'll be yelled at for doing it on purpose.

And yet, he feels guilty, for if it wasn't because of him, Roxanne would have been healthy. And he cannot help but hate her for making him feel this way, if only a little. And only occasionally.

James could never make him guilty – that's why Fred loves being with him. They are the same age, they are both redheads and they share the same interests – first of all, causing as much havoc as possible. They adore making mischief, pulling pranks and they don't hesitate pulling them on one another, from age four to age… well, they haven't stopped even now. Fred needs to be constantly regardful of his behavior to Roxy, who cannot physically take some of his tricks. James is his outlet. Giving him purple hair, charming his textbooks to attack him while sleeping, telling Maggie Ferguson (who's a year ahead of them and quite troll-like) that James fancies her. Nothing is too cruel for James, who cheerfully pays back his debts. The two of them feel closer to each other than they do to their respective siblings, and Fred is really sorry that they would have to part ways when James go to Hogwarts and he stays home. It's not that he doesn't want to go, too – he's always dreamed of that, and his parents and his older cousins' stories about their life in school are so thrilling. But Roxanne isn't up to it yet - her state of health would not allow her to take part in the Hogwarts life, and if Roxy cannot go, then Fred isn't going either.

His parents cannot understand why he gets so angry, when they start singing Hogwarts' praises. Don't they realize that the thought of missing all that excitement does not exactly make him feel great? And why, oh why do they keep pretending that he's going and even suggest that they take him to Diagon-Alley to buy all the stuff he needs? "Why?" he asks his father. "Wouldn't it be better if we wait until everyone else has left? It'll be less crowded then."

George looks at him, suddenly on alert. "Wait – what do you mean 'when everyone else has left'? You are leaving the same day, aren't you?"

Now, Fred is amazed. Has his father really missed the point? "I am not."

"What?"

"I'll be home schooled," the boy explains.

His Dad looks at him speechless – something very untypical for George Weasley. "I thought you wanted to go."

"I do," Fred admits. "But since Roxy can't – " He shrugs.

His father grabs him and locks him in his embrace – something that he does very, very rarely. "Did you tell Roxy?" he asks after a while.

"No," Fred says. "But she knows it anyway," he adds, sure of that.

Roxy really knows that he has decided to stay with her – he doesn't need to tell her that. And she doesn't need to tell him that she appreciates it – he just knows.

So he's really surprised when one night, at the end of August, she sneaks into his room. He moves in bed to open a Roxy-sized space and she takes it. For a while, no one speaks. "I want you to go," she finally says.

He looks at her, astounded. "You do?" is all that he can muster.

She nods firmly. "You must," she says. "You shouldn't stay here just because of me. Besides – " And she flashes him a grin, although he feels that it's forced – " – someone must be there, to teach me the rules in a few years, when I arrive there myself."

In a few years she might be able to undergo a series of severe treatment that would let her lead a normal life – hopefully.

"You serious?" Fred asks.

"Absolutely. Go! And write to me often. Tell me how it is there. I should be prepared."

Surprisingly, his preparations take amazingly little time and efforts, for his parents have already bought most of his stuff – have they known?

At his first night at Hogwarts, while his classmates are homesick, Fred Weasley isn't. It isn't that he doesn't miss his family – he does. It's just that he feels a vast emptiness that cannot be filled. As much as he loves his parents, they weren't supposed to be here and they weren't; as much as Roxy annoys him sometimes, she _is_ supposed to be here, with him, but she isn't.

The happiest day in his life is the first day of his third year, when he and Roxy board the Hogwarts Express together for the first time.

Accidentally, it's the first time he boards the train with Katherine Thomas, too.

Well, of course, technically he has boarded the Hogwarts Express with the girl before – they were at the same year and they belonged to the same house, Gryffindor. But they have never tolerated each other – she thinks that he's a show-off, and he thinks she's just a little prissy mouse, lacking any individuality...

But Roxy is very nervous about her first train ride three years later than her peers, so she enters the first compartment containing two girls. Fred is going to continue down the corridor, but she throws him a pleading look; resigned, he follows her. James is almost ready to join them, but that is before he sees that one of the inhabitants is his long-time nemesis, Jillian Hart. So, Fred finds himself alone with three girls – the most horrible ride in his life. But his presence makes Roxy feel better, so he stays. With his sister. And with Kate Thomas.

Not that he likes her – not then. But she is a good friend to Roxy, helping her grow accustomed to Hogwarts, and that makes him feel a grudging gratitude. Then, in their fifth year, he notices that she's kind of cute. In their sixth year, he decides that she's really pretty. Unfortunately, there are _other_ guys, who think so, too.

And who generally become victims of new tricks of Fred's.

Just a coincidence, of course.

When he finally asks Kate to Hogsmeade, he fully expects that she will refuse – she has more admirers that she could count and besides, she never gave any indication that she thought of him _that way_.

But she says yes. And Fred can't believe he heard right.

Not everything run on wheels, but he hasn't really expected to. They have different views of too many subjects and besides, Kate is too beautiful.

"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she yells at him. "To cover Highley with bark, I'd never think – "

"He should have stopped looking at you like that!" Fred snaps.

"And you resolve the matters personally? Would you harm everyone who likes me?"

"I don't see why not!"

She looks at him, her anger suddenly vanished. "No," she says softly. "I see that you don't." She looks immensely sad. "And here I thought you have grown up," she adds.

He doesn't understand what she means. Should he have let Highley ogling her like that?

"Is that the way you plan on dealing with problems?" Kate asks. "Your problem is with me and no one else. And you still behave like a kid! I don't want a kid to deal with, Fred. I think it's time for us to end it."

_That's it!_ He's shocked – he hasn't been expecting it at all! But he isn't the only one rejected today – Roxy is very upset, with red-rimmed eyes and pale face. He supposes it's because of the sudden revelation in Daily Prophet about her supposedly Muggleborn boyfriend actually descending from a Death Eaters' family. But that isn't it. "He doesn't want me, Fred," Roxanne says softly as soon as she sees her brother. "He's too proud and stubborn!"

"My girl doesn't want me either – "

They look at each other helplessly.

"So, the Weasley family isn't too popular right now," Roxanne concludes ironically.

"Don't despair, sweetie," he says, "at least you have me and I have you."

"Right now that isn't much of a comfort, Fred – "

Although he and Kate finally patch things up, it doesn't last long – they are too different and their relationship slowly starts falling apart even before the end of their seventh year, when she leaves for India, to visit her relatives on her mother's side. Fred isn't too surprised when he hears that she has fallen for some Indian guy and decided to stay there – the two of them have lost the special connection between them long ago. He thinks she's way too serious; she thinks he's still a kid. What chance have they _ever_ had? He throws himself vigorously into his Quidditch career, the fame and popularity that go with being one of the best Beaters in England.

Quidditch... His other passon than Kate. And unlike Kate, this passion stays with him till the end. He loves this game. He loves that he can discuss every match in details with his parents and actually, with just about everyone in the family. And he especially loves it when he can outsmart his Dad on the field at the family games at the Burrow. In these cases, his excitement is so great that it can be compared only to the way he feels when he's performed exceptionally well at a very important match with his team. Maybe it's even greater. It's only natural that he chooses what he can do best and loves most into his career.

He meets other girls. He has relationships. And he rarely thinks about Katherine Thomas – they have been too young and just too different.

That is when he meets her again.

They are not kids anymore. Actually, she even _has_ a kid – a gorgeous little girl of five with the most brilliant smile Fred has ever seen. Kate has changed now – she's thinner, more alert, more distrusting. He's heard that her divorce has been an ugly stuff, but Roxy hasn't told him any details and actually, he hasn't asked.

He, on the other hand, has given up on his Quidditch career and works at his father's chain of jokeshops – he is really inventive and George appreciates his ideas. He's grown more tolerant now, more understanding. And he doesn't hold any hard feelings for what happened years ago. He's seen some real life tragedies – Dominique's longing for a baby, Louis' wife dying because of delivering a baby, Rose fighting with the whole family for having the right to choose her partner in life, even if he belongs to the Malfoy family – _Malfoy family_! – and so on. Fred cannot hold a grudge for something so normal and prosaic as the split of two teenagers years ago.

They both feel as if they are facing a different person from the one they know. And they are both right. But not quite.

Maybe they had to break off then. They really didn't have a chance - not the way they were then. Maybe it isn't enough to meet the right person – maybe you need to meet the right person in the right time to make it work. Fred is sure that this time, he has done it. He doesn't feel the slightest hesitation when he proposes to Kate, a year after their getting together. He is sure of himself when he expresses his wish to take care of her daughter and define his life according to their needs. It won't be easy and he doesn't delude himself that it would be. But they will make it work. They can. They are right for each other and now, the timing is right for them.


	11. Roxanne Weasley

_Disclaimer: Mine? Hardly!_

**Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. Each one of them made me feel like having a birthday card five months in advance.**

Chapter 11

Roxanne Weasley

When people look at the two of them, no one would say that they are twins, and not only because of their different colour. No, it is because Fred looks healthy, pleased with himself and the world and he simply oozes vitality, while Roxanne oozes – what? The stench of all the potions she's forced to take on a daily – sometimes even on hourly – basis? She hopes not – it could not be _this_ bad. It is bad enough that even with her dark skin, she always manages to look pale and sickly.

Of course, she _is_ sickly, has been sickly ever since her birth. It is so unfair that Fred and their cousins can run around all they want, chasing gnomes and sliding down the railing of the staircase with their heads down, while she can only watch them. When she's six, she tries to pretend that everything is okay with her health, hoping that maybe the pretension will make it real. But it doesn't. She tries to play hide-and-seek with the other kids and a few minutes of running take her straight to St. Mungo's. Her mother looks very sad and on the verge of tears, when she hugs her fiercely and tells her that she should never, _never_ try something like that again. "But what can I play at?" Roxy asks plaintively.

"You have such lovely dolls," her mother says, and Roxy wants to cry. It's true that her dolls are lovely and nice to play with – her Dad even charmed one of them to look like Roxy herself, - but they are _everything_ she's allowed. She wants to play outside with the other kids, but her Mum says she's going to fall ill, if she does, and Roxy doesn't want to be ill.

So she goes back to her dolls and never again tries a game that would demand any kind of physical efforts. Thank Merlin that she has enough female cousins to play with. Sometimes she can convince even Fred to play dolls with her, although he wants to keep it a secret.

Due to her health problems, she's overindulged by everyone in the Weasley family. She knows that some of her cousins – James and Hugo, especially – envy her a little, for she can get away with anything, from accidentally destroying a whole shelf of her father's newest products to stealing away two extra pieces of her grandmother's cake, leaving someone of the family without dessert. Well, she envies them for being able to run freely and make mischief that requires punishment, _and_ actually get punished. She would trade them in a minute, if given a chance.

Well, if she told someone about all of this, they would draw the conclusion that she is unhappy. The truth is, she isn't. She isn't neglected or anything. Besides, she is a Weasley and there is always something happening with this family – within and out of it. More than that, she lives with the infamous George Weasley and one of the things her Dad could never be accused of is that life is dull in his vicinity. They lived thrillingly – sometimes even too thrillingly, as her Mum would say with a frown. But Roxy loves it – every moment of it.

Well, maybe almost every moment.

Sometimes, when he sees that she's upset because the other kids have lost themselves into an energetic game that she cannot participate in, her Dad takes her out for a walk. They talk about Important Things, like the newest concept of the jokeshop and what a bunch of fools the former Ministry officials were and Roxy adores that her father treats her like a grown-up. He even considers some of her ideas for new products and actually puts some of them to work. Besides, he always takes her to a sweet shop. Not Florean Fortescue's, because she's rarely allowed to eat ice-cream, but a sweet shop. She prefers Muggle ones, for there is a bigger variety of pastries and her Dad prefers them, because there is a lesser chance of him being recognized there. They would occupy a table and sit there for hours, chatting and eating cake, until Roxy would forget that she'd been upset.

Sometimes, they call Lee with them. Roxy doesn't mind sharing her special moments with her Dad with Lee, because he's the coolest of all of her parents' friends. Besides, he's her godfather and he knows how to handle her and make her laugh. Once, after Fred and James have scared her to death with all their talks about war and Dark wizards, Lee shows up, all dressed in white, and proclaims that _he_ is a Dark wizard – it takes one look at him to know that, he explains, before trying to 'grab' and 'curse' the five years-old Roxy. She shrieks with laughter and she's never afraid of Dark wizards again.

But what makes them laugh most is not a joke of their own. It's the way that people who don't know them react, when they see the three of them together – Roxy, her father, and her godfather. Since Roxy takes after her dark-skinned mother, that means that she resembles Lee more than she does her own father, so everyone assumes that Lee is her Dad. Lee thinks it's hilarious and so does Roxy. Unfortunately, George's famous sense of humour completely fails him here and he inevitably starts grumbling, which only makes Roxy and Lee laugh harder.

Her very best friend has always been Molly. A strange choice that is, Roxy has heard from the conversations between different family members, who cannot understand what draws the two girls close to one another. Truly, not everyone should be too alike to their best friend, but in Molly and Roxy's case, the differences seem to be more than the similarities. Molly is all practicality, while Roxy is more of a dreamer; Molly has absolutely no sense of humour at all, while Roxy is a valuable asset to her father's jokeshop; Molly is a bookworm, while Roxy can spend a whole day looking throw Muggle fashion magazines. To top it all, Molly is two years older than Roxy. Then what is it, the Weasleys ask each other.

No one even suspects what makes Roxy and Molly close. It's the fact that, while her other cousins are attentive to Roxy, her circumstances alienate her to some extent. She's the only one who cannot take part in their activities, the only one who draws anxious glances if she does as much as a sneeze, the one that everybody should be careful around. And that makes her quite a dangerous company.

But Molly is not like the others. Even when she is seven, she knows what she wants to do when she grows up: she wants to become a Healer. And she also wants to find a way to cure Roxy from her constant illnesses. Roxy will never forget that.

No matter what everyone says, friendship does not necessarily start from similarities and shared fun. Sometimes, it starts just from the simple feeling of gratitude.

Roxy's earliest memories are of Fred. Always there, always laughing. She cannot imagine that there might be a day when they will be separated, but here it comes. The monster. _Hogwarts_.

She knows that there is no chance for her to go there – not when a little tripping can make her head swim. When she's grown enough to undergo a series of treatment, then maybe she will be allowed to leave for school. But not now. Fred, on the other hand, is as healthy as they come and bubbling with life and desire to go to Hogwarts. In all honesty, Roxy is a little insulted and more than a little heartbroken. He should beg to be allowed to stay at home with her! They have always been together! How can he be look forward to leaving her?

But Roxy won't beg him to stay. She won't. Up to this day, Fred has done only what he wanted. Oh she is aware that most people think it's kind of him to yield to her as often as he does, but Roxy knows better. She knows that he does only what he wants to – if he sits for hours to her sickbed, it's because that is his will and when he plays dolls with her, it is because he wants it, too. She won't make him do something that he doesn't want, even if that means being alone, while he's having fun at Hogwarts.

However, she feels immensely relieved, when she realizes that he intends to stay. She tries to ignore the sadness on his face, when James is chatting about all the adventures the two of them will have and the pranks they will pull on their classmates. _If Fred has decided to stay with me, it is because he wants to_, she says to herself over and over again.

But it doesn't help.

So she tells him to leave and even manages to smile, although she's devastated. But she doesn't go to Platform 9 ¾ – there is a limit to her inner strength. Instead, she tells Fred goodbye in their house and he hugs her so hard that for a moment, she cannot breathe. He immediately loosens his grip, but they are still clinging to each other like they would never let go. Finally, their father has to pull them apart, literally. How did she manage not to burst in tears, Roxy will never know.

Time goes by and they become adjusted to being apart, although Roxy knows that it is harder on her, because she doesn't have new friends and activities to distract her. Never in her life has she felt so lonely.

But that only strengthens her resolve to take care of herself, so she could be subjected to the treatment that would let her be like the other girls and fit into that Hogwarts world.

Yet, no one could have prepared her just how long and hard this treatment would be – the six longest months in her life. But then, she's on Platform 9 ¾ with Fred and for a first time in her life, she can break into a run without being afraid of overdoing, and it is absolutely worth it.

Still, it's hard to adjust to her new life. Pain has been a part of her for so long that in a strange way, she's really missing it a little. And the whispers at Hogwarts do not make it easier. First, she's a third year and yet it's her first year not only at Hogwarts, but at school at all. Second, she's a Weasley. Third, the rumours and the copies of Daily Prophet has long ago told her pureblood classmates about her health problems and some of them are actually amazed that she _survived_. "I thought you are dead" does not make exactly the most promising start of a new friendship, or does it?

But she cannot deny the humour of the situation when, after having explained the nature of their relationship to those of their classmates who have no idea, she and Fred _always_ get a reaction along the lines of, "You can't be twins, you're different colours." Well, they are accustomed to it, but it doesn't get less funny with time. It's true that Fred is red-haired and freckled like their Dad, while Roxy is black, like their Mum, but, as Uncle Ron puts it, "we should have really expected something like that, George. We're talking about your kids here. I bet you planned it this way!" Everyone thinks it's just one of Fred's jokes. And the looks they receive when the others realize that they really _are_ twins are worth the time they lost for convincing them.

But it is still hard to get used to Hogwarts, to become accepted. That's why she'll be forever grateful to Kate and Jillian for willing to be her friends, to include her in their everyday life, although they've had two years to become accustomed to each other and she's just a newcomer.

Soon, Roxy discovers something new about herself: she likes boys. Well, maybe she should have expected that it would come, with growing up and so on, but she hasn't. She's surprised to find out that she likes to think about boys and that she's a natural at flirting. Unfortunately, her brother and cousins does not share her enjoyment. Fred always point out that Victoire and Rose never behaved in such a way and that makes her furious, because it's just unfair and he _knows_ that. Vickie just never had eyes for anyone but Teddy and Rose – hello, Rose is a third year, of course she isn't interested in boys yet!

Thank Merlin for Dominique, who's had a good deal of flirting herself before finally settling to Robert: her cousin beckons Fred and the others to a quiet corner and gives them a lecture that might have been or might not have been emphasized by a wand use. After that, they still grumble at the sight of Roxy with a guy, but they do it quietly and never to her face.

In her seventh year, Roxy starts to think that she might have actually fallen in love with her latest boyfriend – a Muggleborn Ravenclaw named Steve Anderson. He' nice, even if he isn't strikingly attractive, he's smart and he cares about more than her looks, which is something that can be told about few of her earlier crushes. Maybe she cares for him more than she would have done for a casual infatuation, too – but she isn't sure. She needs time to figure it out.

But while she's thinking it out, other people take to action. A few weeks later, Roxy is shocked to wake up to the news that her supposedly Muggleborn boyfriend actually have a wizarding lineage. Dolohov lineage, to be precise. And Daily Prophet has spread the news to the whole wizarding world.

Now, Roxy is sorry that she didn't tell him that she's really in love with him, because it's too late – he doesn't want either her or her pity and he won't even listen to her when she tries to tell him that it isn't pity at all. Before she knows it, he's broken up with her, so she doesn't even have the chance to yell at him for keeping his lineage a secret. But then, why should she be angry? It was just a casual flirt, nothing more… that was the way _she_ wanted it.

So, a month later, when he hesitantly approaches her and asks her to talk to her, she immediately makes her intention clear: it's going to be either a real relationship, or nothing.

He chooses the real relationship. Three years later, she does the same, when he proposed to her. And she's never sorry for saying 'yes' – well, maybe she is a little sorry, when she has to teach him that no, the kitchen table is not for propping your feet on it and yes, the small ellipse objects are eggs in their natural state and he has to learn to cook them. Two or three times, Steve almost bring the whole house down. But Roxy is patient.

When she tells her family that she's going to work in a fashion magazine, she can almost hear the sound of their collective sigh. She has no doubts that her career choice will be the subject of the dinner conversation in each of the numerous Weasley households. _'Well, we should have expected it, she's always been too interested in clothes and boys, way too girly…' 'And what of that,_ she wants to shout at her imaginary interlocutor. '_There is nothing wrong with being girly. Not all girls are interested in Quidditch and brandishing their wands against a presumed Death Eater. What's wrong with being interested in your looks and outfit? It isn't as if we don't care about anything else!'_ But she knows that, apart from Aunt Fleur, Vickie and Dominique, and maybe Aunt Ginny, no one else would understand her. So she can only do her job and wait until they realize that her worldly interests do not necessarily make her shallow.


	12. George Weasley

_Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, not even the plot, because this story does not have one._

**Thanks for all your wonderful reviews, they act like a great incentive to me.**

Chapter 12

George Weasley

He's always defined himself as a Weasley twin, as one half of the Fred and George Weasley package and that's never bothered him. In a way, he is Fred and Fred is him. It is so easy and simple. Maybe it would have been a trouble, if they were more different, like Parvati and Padma Patil, who look alike, like them, but their personalities are differing to an extent that makes George feel amazed, because how is it possible for twins to be so mismatched as to go to Gryffindor _and_ Ravenclaw?

But he and Fred aren't like that. They are so alike that they can finish each other's sentences and sometimes they can almost read each other's thoughts. Almost. So, being defined as a half of a whole does bother him, for the two halves are absolutely, completely alike.

George has been listening about Hogwarts ever since Bill got there and came back singing its praises. Then Charlie went there; a few years later the twins looked enviously at their oldest brothers, when they stole their parents' wands and started waving them, producing remarkable effects. Of course, Fred and George had nicked the wands more than once and brandished them like swords, but they never had any _control_ over them – just bizarre effects that surprised them as much as everyone else.

So, they decided that Hogwarts should be a wonderful place, giving one the opportunity to do whatever he likes.

Years later, when they leave for Hogwarts themselves, they take this concept a little too much to heart, to their teachers' utter desperation. There isn't a place at Hogwarts' grounds where the Weasley twins haven't roamed, or a stupid, but ingenious nonetheless prank that they haven't tried. They paint the castle pink – something that they come to deeply regret, when a certain toad-like woman in pink cardigan make Hogwarts her residence, - they cast a Stinking Curse on the Slytherin common room, they inspect the Forbidden Forest, so they would know why it's forbidden and Mrs Norris breaks into stampede as soon as she spots them. They are punished by their teachers, scolded by their Head of House, yelled at by Howlers – and they just keep going the same way, because they like it. And because that's their way to do something for the school they love. _Hogwarts is a marvelous place, but it could do with a bit more vitality, _George thinks_. And a bit less of Mrs Norris._

During the great breakup between Ron and Harry, Fred and George accept Ron into their company, although they often share a silent amazement at the extent of his folly. Really, how can he take such a silly thing so hard? How can he be so treacherous, George wonders. _As if it mattered whether Harry forced his way into the tournament by cheating or not – which he didn't_. Despite his disappointment, though, George can't turn his back on Ron, though. Because he's his little brother and no matter how wrong he is, he _needs_ their support.

And then the Third Task comes. Cedric dies. Voldemort rises again. Ron stands firmly with Harry. And Percy leaves.

George will never admit that it hurts – but it does. More than he could have possibly imagined. He's had no idea that Percy mattered to him this much. At night, he would lie in his unfamiliar bed in Grimmauld Place and try to understand what happened, how their family came to this. He never finds a satisfying answer. Not then.

_Funny how so many things seem inevitable, given enough distance_, George thinks many years later. _Put two boys with a similar problem – the feeling of not being appreciated enough – and different personalities together and see what evolves. Usually grudging tolerance, of each other and the rest of the family. Then the trial comes and disturbs the balance: rarely will they react the same way._ This must have been what happened. Ron and Percy, alike in many respects, when things are good. When the situation turns fraught, each reverts to his true form: Ron essentially good, Percy a snooty bastard. The betrayal sharp.

When the unthinkable happens, George doesn't cry. He seems to be unable to grasp the mere concept of it. Fred can't be dead, for if Fred were dead, he would have been too and he's alive, isn't he? They are supposed to leave the world together, as they entered it together. Looking at the dead face and unblinking eyes in front of him, he knows it's true, and yet he cannot _feel_ it. Not then. Not even at the day of the funeral. He hears whisper behind his back that he needs time to accept it, but he will never get used to _that_.

The first sign of the walls crumbling down comes a few days after the funeral, when the silence in his room at the Burrows is threatening to drive him mad. Without fully realizing what he's doing, he leaves his room and hesitantly enters Ginny's. She's fully dressed, looking unseeingly through the window. At the sounds of his footsteps, she turns her head towards him and meets his gaze with eyes that are as dead and red-brimmed as his own.

"Can I stay the night?" he asks almost inaudibly and she simply nods. When he's settled in her bed, she sits next to him and takes his hand in her own, the way he has done with her so many times, when she has been scared to death – usually by their talks about monsters hiding under her bed. And during this awful first night of nightmares and tears coming at least, the feeling that her small, yet strong hands hold him tight and won't let him go does not leave him.

Sometimes, when they talk about Fred, he feels that people want to ask him whether he felt his twin dying. They never do ask and he never does answer. Because he has always thought that, close as they are, he should have felt something so vital, so final happening, but the truth it, he didn't.

What was he doing, or saying, or thinking, when Fred died? This question always haunts him. He suspects that it would never stop.

The weeks after Fred's death, he starts falling down the spiral of drinking, and pretending to be normal, and going mad. He is the smiling, joking, mischievous owner of the WWW and a grim drunkard, who lives with the ghost of his dead twin, who is going mad and doesn't even care that he's going mad. Then, a few months afterwards, during a quarrel, he tells Ron that he wished it had been Ron who died, instead of Fred. That's the most cruel thing he's ever said to someone. And it isn't even true! Yet, it is as great shock to him as to Ron, and in a strange way, that shock helps him start slowly healing.

He still wished he hasn't said it, though.

Another thing that helps him heal is the arrival of a little silver-haired angel: Victoire. She is the very picture of her mother and she looks nothing like the Weasley family. Nothing like Fred. And yet, she's born on the anniversary of his death. Exactly three minutes after twelve. George thinks that Fred would have liked that and he knows for sure that his twin would have spoiled Victoire rotten. He would have liked and loved Victoire with all his heart and he would have died for her – just like George would. He falls madly in love with her the moment she's placed into his arms in the hospital where she has been born while he has been fighting for his life after having accidentally poisoned himself with too much alcohol.

Victoire is the living proof that Fred's death, no matter how tragic and hard for the family it is, has not been in vain. He had died, so children like her could be born without fear. In a world that's better. The smiling or, too often, wailing newborn, is the evidence that life after the war is still worth living.

That's why she's George absolute favourite, out of all his nephews and nieces. He loves them all dearly, of course, and each one of hem is special. Victoire is just a little more special than the rest of them. And George claimed her as his own girl, although he's careful not to show it in front of anyone else. She's Uncle George's girl.

But the greatest gift in his life is Angelina, by no competition. It is strange, when he thinks of it, that he ends up married to Fred's date for the Yule Ball – Lee's longtime obsession.

It isn't like most people think – that she healed him from the shock and grief that Fred's death left in him. Yes, she helped him recover and he's the last one to deny it, but the great part of the healing, he did by himself. And it isn't fair to treat Angelina like some Healer or something. She's so much more. She's one of the very few people who are sure that he won't break thoroughly during these first months, and she doesn't rush him to make a recovery as fast as possible – she lets him take his time. She's the one he loves being with without being careful of not showing any sign of depression out of a fear that he will get her worried – she accepts his bad periods as something normal that will pass with time. She's the one who helps him define himself as someone different from 'a Weasley twin' or 'one of the Weasley kids'. She gives him a family of his own. They are a family – Angelina, Fred, Roxy. And he. The three of them define him. They make him happy like no one else can. They get him mad like no one else.

They make him whole again – in a different way and not as whole as he has been if Fred has been alive, but whole, nonetheless.

That's why, when he realizes he has started developing feelings for Angelina, he decides to act on them. He can only hope that it won't mean the end of the longest friendship in his life: he knows that many people don't take Lee's often proclaimed attraction to Angelina seriously, but he knows better.

Lee's reaction is better than everything George has hoped for. "Go on," Lee says. "She's always made it clear that she wasn't interested in me this way."

Still, there is a slight feeling of discomfort, when the four of them are together – George, Angelina, Alicia and Lee. Sometimes Katie and Oliver join them – they are all friends from Hogwarts and they enjoy being together. George asks himself how Lee must feel now, but his friend never gives any indication to his private thoughts. And so, soon things settle to normal – or at least, that's what George tries to believe.

When Angelina gets pregnant, he's thrilled. He knows it will be a boy and it will be named Fred – well, of course, it _might_ be a girl, but then they'll just try again and again, until they've got a Fred.

George certainly hasn't taken the possibility of twins into consideration.

When he learns that he's having twins, his excitement turns to horror. He doesn't want twins: he's afraid that secretive smiles, finishing each other sentences, conspiratorial glances and talks into a language of their own will remind him too hard of what he lost. And he's terrified by the thought that that might make him hate his kids, or simply not love them enough. And the constant lies to Angelina that no, he's okay with it and he's beyond thrilled to have twins – make it all harder.

The first time he sees them – a big, red-haired boy with well-developed lungs – he's tempted to make a Deafening Charm on himself to escape Fred's wailing – and the little girl, almost twice smaller than her brother, grey with paleness, her limbs trembling with weakness, with almost no chance to survive the week – he stares and he cannot believe how stupid he has been.

"Mrs Weasley is awake," they say, and he enters the room where Angelina is. She looks at him and her lips, bloody and bitten all over, move.

He sits next to her and takes her hand in his own. "They were born," he says and smiles.

Her eyes lit up and a brilliant smile answers him. Her whole body relaxes. "We have Fred," he says, "and a little girl. Since Fred's name has been predestined, I want you to choose hers."

"Roxanne," she whispers. "My grandmother's name was Roxanne."

He smiles and kisses her fingers. "Well then, Roxanne it is," he says.

She must have noticed something in his face or voice, because her eyes lit with alarm. "George? What's wrong?"

He realizes that he hasn't been able to fool her. "She – she isn't too strong. Angelina. She's got a few – problems – " His voice breaks.

She stares at him with disbelief. Her eyes slowly swell and the tears start falling, until she falls into exhausted slumber.

Two hours later, George starts pounding at a door. Only when the owner of the flat answers it does George realize that he's come at Lee's place – without thinking, moving just on instinct.

His friend looks exhausted. George knows that lately, he's been having too much to deal with at work. "Do you know that time is it?" Lee slurs.

"At about three a. m.," George answers, and Lee sighs and lets him in.

Inside, Lee rubs at his eyes and seems to get back his ability to focus. "Merlin, George! What happened?" he asks and pours him a drink.

Five minutes later, George is at the end of his short story. Lee has paled. "God, George, I'm sorry!"

"Is it my fault?" George asks.

"What? Of course it isn't!"

George doesn't seem to hear him. "I think it is," he says. "I didn't want twins. I was terrified at the thought of having twins. And here it is – the punishment – "

"Stop it!" Lee says firmly and shakes him.

And then his friend's arms are around him, and he cries, as he hasn't cried since Fred died.

Years later, he looks at his children: the healthy, vital, energetic boy, who doesn't mind sitting for hours at his sister's sickbed, trying to entertain her, to nurse her back to health, and the pale girl who is so much smaller than Fred that she seems one or two years younger. And he remembers his fears that the worst thing that could happen is that his twin children will be too much like him and Fred – always together, always exploring, always making mischief. How stupid he has been! _I was wrong_, he thinks. _Seeing them like this is the worst thing that can happen to me_.

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**A. N. Yes, I know I still have Molly and Lucy to deal with. I will do them, I promise. But it seems that I'll be writing whoever I feel inspired to, so I cannot guarantee who will be the next one. Meanwhile, you can always leave a review.**

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	13. Hermione Granger

_Disclaimer: All belongs to Jo._

**Thank you for all your lovely reviews. You guys are great.**

Chapter 13

Hermione Granger

1. She always knew that she was different. She just couldn't tell how she was different. Was it her bushy hair? Her wits? The fact that the others considered her a teacher's pet? Her altitude that made the other kids call her Miss Know-It-All? (But then, she really did know it all, didn't she?)

It was not that she was bullied, far from that. But she was always isolated and mostly ignored by the other kids. She soon stopped trying to change that – she had realized that it would lead her nowhere. And it wasn't even that important. She didn't need friends – she had her books.

Yet, that did not change the fact that she was different in many ways. For one, how many children had their pen writing their homework for them, when her thoughts outrun her writing speed? And when one of the girls at school started making fun of Hermione's bushy hair, her own hair had started falling out right there! Hermione knew that somehow, she had been the one who made it happen, and that scared her a little.

And then, when the letter arrives, when Professor McGonagall comes, she finally realizes just why she's different.

She's beyond thrilled. She's read many books about magic and her favourite fairytales are about powerful wizards and beautiful witches – and now it turns out that it's all real? And she's one of them? Besides, it's good to know that her difference isn't _wrong_.

She starts preparing for her new life in her usual way – by making herself informed. She makes a good use of the almost full year between her eleventh birthday and her leaving for Hogwarts to memorize her textbooks and try to be as magical as a kid who has grown up as a Muggle can be.

But at the end, it turns out that Hogwarts is quite disappointing. No one wants to talk about classes and studies; no one cares about trying to be magical. At least, no one in Gryffindor. Hermione starts thinking that maybe the Sorting Hat made a mistake. It considered her for Ravenclaw, after all, and it was leaning towards that House quite heavily, when it saw something in her that made it change its mind. "_No, I don't think so –_ " she heard it muttering. "_Really, I don't. There's a good deal of courage here –_ "

"_Courage? I don't have courage._"

The Hat chuckled – there was no other word to describe the sound it produced. "_Oh, I see a nice spark there. You just don't know what to do with it yet. But that doesn't mind. Never worry, my dear, because __**I know**__._"

"_Won't you just send me to Ravenclaw?_" In truth, Hermione was slightly offended. All her life she had been praised for her wits and now this _Hat_ told her that she wasn't fit for the House of smart people?

Again that infuriated chuckle. "_You'll do well in Ravenclaw, Miss Granger. Yes, very well indeed. But we don't want very well, do we? You'll be all about books and studies and nothing else when you could be so much more. Do you want to be mediocre?_"

"_No_." The answer had left her lips even before Hermione realized it.

"_I knew it. You are meant for so much more than libraries and classrooms, rules and discipline. And you'll have what you are meant for in … GRYFFINDOR!_"

Now, she knows that the Hat has been wrong. All she wants is to find someone who share her love for books, someone who she can sit quietly in front of the fireplace and discuss their homework, someone who understood. Instead, she has two roommates whose limited number of brain cells is concentrated on giggling and boys, boys and giggling. Ah, and she should not forget the rest of her classmates who think her a nerd.

And then a troll sneaked in Hogwarts and everything changed.

Now, she has friends. Real friends. Someone she can talk with about just everything. She is surprised to realize that she doesn't feel the need to discuss their studies so strongly – they have things that are so much more interesting to talk about. And when she feels like discussing it anyway, Ron and Harry listen to her, although with pained expression and quick glances at each other that they think they are so good at hiding from her. She knows that in these moments, they do think her a nerd. But she doesn't care. Because she can say that they see her as _their_ nerd. And of course, she isn't meant for spending her life in libraries and homework. She's meant for adventures, for carrying baby dragons through the Forbidden Forest at night, for outsmarting Dark wizards, for researching possible werewolves and dealing with Azkaban prisoners and her own two idiotic best friends. She is meant for studying and working, of course, but not for spending _her whole_ _life_ that way.

That's why one of her favourite subjects is Care of Magical Creatures. Not only because she likes magical creatures, not only because Hagrid teaches it, but because it was a magical creature that brought her close to Ron and Harry. A magical creature that gave her her boys – the brother that she never wanted – she certainly doesn't want Harry when she's angry with him – and the boyfriend that she never wanted.

_Wait! The boyfriend that I never wanted? Where did this thought come from? I don't want Ron Weasley as a boyfriend. No girl in her sound mind would _want_ Ron Weasley as a boyfriend. Especially when he doesn't want her as a girlfriend. Oh no, here I go again_! Hermione stands up and closes her Arithmancy book. All these extra classes start freaking her out. _I need a long sleep_.

She's always had a great deal of respect for all her teachers, because she's learned something from each of them. She heroships Professor McGonagall for her natural talent for teaching, for the fact that magic is just spilling out of her, but in ever so controlled way, for the fact that she's a woman of stern principles, but she respects Professor Flitwick for his ability to keep the attention of every class he teaches and actually engraving knowledge into their heads. Professor Flitcwick is smart. His theatrics aside, he's natural at teaching and he's even managed to turn his strangeness in advantage – at the beginning, students pay attention in his class for his squealing and fits, but at the end of the day, they leave with at least some basic knowledge in their heads. And she respects him for that. She admires Professor Sprout for her absolute dedication to her students and Herbology. She respects Professor Vector's serious ways with Arithmancy. She even respects – although quite grudgingly – Snape's undoubted, impeccable knowledge of his area and just about everything.

Well, she doesn't hold the tiniest bit of respect for her Divination Professor, but then, the woman is no real teacher, is she? She's just a fraud.

But the only one that she really hates with passion is Professor Umbridge. She knows that Harry and Ron think she dislikes her for her total incompetence and she leaves them think that, because it isn't entirely untrue. But even she cannot say why she feels so strongly about the woman.

She realizes the reason two years later, when she, Harry and Ron sneak into the Ministry under disguise. There is such a thing as delight in cruelty because of cruelty itself and Hermione has felt it in the Toad Woman since the very beginning. _That's_ what repelled her the whole time, not silly little things like lessons and idiocy. (It isn't that lessons aren't important. It's just that, compared to _enjoying_ cruelty, they aren't.)

There are three times when Ron Weasley breaks her heart.

The first one is in their fourth year, when, after finally admitting to herself that she was not in her sound mind, because she wouldn't mind if Ron gave any indication that he wanted to be her boyfriend, she has to realize that he doesn't see her as a girl, just like his old pal. And no one would want to snog their old pal. No one would want to take their old pal to the Yule Ball. Victor Krum's attention works wonders for her confidence, but it can do nothing for her heart. And Hermione thinks she's really going mad, because she _still_ wants Ron.

The second time us in their sixth year, when, after having thought that the has finally seen what is right in front of him, that maybe it could work for the two of them, she sees him kissing Lavender Brown. She doesn't understand what went wrong, but whatever it is, it can't be this bad to justify the way he makes her feel now. And they didn't even talk about it! Ron just went and snogged Lavender!

It doesn't matter what she could have possibly done wrong. What Ron still does is unforgivable and she's never going to forgive him for the pain that he caused her. Never. (But when she sees him so pale and unconscious in the infirmary bed, she does.)

The third time is in what should have been their seventh year (but it isn't). Then, he does the only thing that she has never thought possible for him to do: he _leaves_.

This heartbreak is worse than anything she's ever experienced. Because Ron takes away not only her faith, not only their little group's good humour – no matter how much she loves Harry, the guy is the king of glumness and Hermione has never been too cheerful person herself either, – not only her hopes that finally there was something real forming between the two of them, - he took away their past too. All their adventures, all their evenings together, all secret looks that he gave her, thinking that she wouldn't notice – they are not strong enough to keep Ron here, to keep him with them. And she blames him for that.

She also blames him that a small part of her wants to leave Harry save the world alone and go and find Ron. That makes her despise herself. She blames him for that, too.

She has always believed that they will all survive and they'll somehow manage to beat The Dark Lord. Not that she ever has any real reason to. Really, Ron falling unconscious under the strike of an animated chess piece isn't exactly encouraging. Neither is Ginny being obsessed by a piece of a dark soul. Neither is Cedric's death. Neither is… the list is endless. No, she doesn't believe because she has grounds. She believes because she has to. Because, if she doesn't believe, she cannot be efficient, and without her being efficient, without her working out the plans in detail, Ron and Harry cannot succeed. They are not good at strategy. It is so simple: she must believe, because if she doesn't, it means the end of her boys. And she cannot let it happen.

When she looks back, it seems to her that she's always been waiting for Ron to kiss her. First, it is the Yule Ball, when she hopes that he will invite her to go with him and then he will kiss her. Then, it is in their fifth year, when he throws dirty looks at the letter that she's writing to Victor and then she hopes he will snarl something in that way of his that makes him look like a bear, and then he will kiss her. Then, their sixth year comes and with it – the obvious demonstrations of Ron's feelings for her. She hopes that he will accept her invitation for Slughorn's party and then he will kiss her.

Then, Lavender comes along and Hermione fervently hopes that he will kiss her, so she can bite his tongue off.

In their seventh year, she stops hoping – she just doesn't have the time. They have to find the Horcruxes, to save the world, to keep their own skins intact… Kissing just isn't part of the program.

But when they stand in the hall, hands full of basilisk fangs, and Ron says that they need to alert the house-elves, and there is such sincerity and care in his voice, Hermione suddenly cannot understand why she has waited for him to make the first move. She wants to kiss him, so she does and he lifts her off her feet. A _very_ satisfying response.

Then, they have the future they have fought for. They should be happy. They should be ecstatic.

They are not. How can they be? Looking at the empty seat on the table in the Weasley kitchen, where Fred should have been, how can they be? Looking at George who is so silent and depressed that he isn't George anymore, how can they be? Looking at the ruined face of Lavender Brown, once one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts and now not, how can they be?

Looking at little Teddy, who is staring confused at the smiling faces around him – the first time when Hermione, Ron, Harry and Ginny are _happy_, when they come to visit him, and he's already nine months old – how can they be?

The rest of the year is a struggle to survive. As is the next year. And the one after that.

Changes can be painful, even if they are for good.

Hogwarts heals her – at least, partly. She never regrets her decision to come back for her _real_ her seventh year and she can tell that Harry and Ron don't regret coming back either. For her, Hogwarts have always been a healing place of peace and looking at all her classmates who have decided to come back for a new seventh year too, she knows that she isn't the only one to feel this way.

The usual rhythms of school life calms them down a great deal. Yet, it is different. For once, no one whispers about Harry in the halls – save for the excited first years, - but it is dispiriting to think of the reasons that caused this change: the others are just as shaken as the three of them. In an unspoken agreement, students barely talk about the war, but the empty seats – so many of them – mercilessly remind them of the people who should be there and they aren't. As if someone needs reminding!

Even Malfoy has changed. He barely leaves the Slytherin common room, except for going to classes – and when he does, he strides across the halls like a ghost, strangely different without Crabbe and Goyle next to him. He never talks to anyone, never tries to pick a quarrel with Gryffindors. Hemione briefly wonders why has he come back. It can't be the healing that the rest of them seek – if anything, Malfoy looks worse every day. But she doesn't give him much of a thought – she is too busy trying to get accustomed to this brave new world.

Only once, in a moment of deep confusion and depression, when she meets him in the hallway, she tries to provoke him, hoping for a nasty answer, for something familiar that would help her keep herself whole. But he doesn't fall for her baits.

Even Malfoy has changed.

And they have to learn to live in this new, changed world – changed for the better, but changed, nonetheless.

She tries to bring up her kids as unaffected by the war as possible. Her son and daughter will have original names and not heroic namesakes that they will have to live up to – she and Ron are in complete agreement about that. They want to give Rose and Hugo the best of both wizard and Muggle world – they often take them to visit their Granger grandparents, they enroll them in a Muggle primary school, they encourage them to make Muggle friends. Anf they – well, that's more Hermione than Ron – teach them to have no prejudices. She's convinced that it's the best way to bring her children up – until Rose turns sixteen and gives them the most startling news. Then, Hermione starts thinking that she might have gone too far with her policy of 'forgive and forget old grudges'. She wanted Rose to be free of prejudices like blood and lineage. But she never wanted her daughter to become involved with Scorpius Malfoy!

**A. N. Any reviews are welcome.**

6


	14. Ron Weasley

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter? He's Jo's._

**Thanks to everyone who spared time to review.**

Chapter 14

Ron Weasley

It's not easy being the sixth son. The second or the third one would be bad enough, but the sixth! That means that he has five standards to reach and that's quite difficult. In fact, it is impossible. To make it worse, all his brothers _must_ be the best in one area or another – Bill and Percy are the smartest in their respective years, Charlie is a legend in Quiddich, and Fred and George are the undisputed _kings_ of pranks and jokes. Ron doesn't have an area for himself to be the best in (not that he could, anyway), and that forces him to seek to reach the levels his brothers have before him in their fields – something that he never does. Why the star genes are distributed between the other members of his family? It isn't fair! And the fact that his parents have never needed or wanted him, that he came into the world just because his mother has made yet _another_ attempt for a daughter does not help him one bit.

Yes, being the sixth son isn't easy. But it is infinitely harder, when he becomes the _fifth_ one.

Ever since he has started to understand the world around him, he has heard tales about Harry Potter – how brave his parents have been, how he has saved the world from the Darkest Wizard ever existed, how he lived with Muggles and how unfair it was of Dumbledore not to give him to some wizard family to raise him. Sometimes, Ron liked to imagine what it would have been like, if Harry Potter had been taken in by his parents. That would have made him practically a brother to Ron and that would have been wonderful. He was sure that Harry Potter wouldn't have been a pompous prat like Percy, or a pain in the ass like Fred and George. And he was Ron's age, so he would have been forced to play with Ginny, too, and Ron wouldn't have been the only one mocked for playing 'girly' games (although, when he goes to Hogwarts, he realizes just how un-girly Gin is. He could have done much worse.)

While he's growing up, he realizes that Harry Potter will be in his year. He hopes that they can become friends, if they end up in the same House, of course. There is no doubt that Harry Potter will be a Gryffindor – with his background, he can't be anything else. But that is no guarantee for Ron. Is he brave enough? He prefers not to think about that…

Yet, he is a little afraid. A celebrity like Harry Potter surely won't want to hang out with someone like him. If he had been in Fred and George's year, it would have been different. But he is in Ron's.

Then, Ron meets him in person and Harry is nothing like he has imagined. He is just an ordinary kid, who cannot find the platform on his own, cannot load his own trunk up and cannot fathom all attention that is being lavished upon him. Ron notices the other boy's embarrassment, when he talks about his scar. In this moment, he realizes that Harry could be his friend.

In retrospect, he realizes that there are so many clues that should have hinted him that he fancied Hermione.

The first one is the basilisk or rather, the way he reacts at the news that Hermione has been Petrified. He's shocked. Grieved. Enraged. He feels utterly bereft. This thing, whatever it is – for at this time, they don't know it's a basilisk – has robbed him of something precious. Something that has become a part of his life – no, that's not right; Harry is a part of his life, an important one, but it isn't the same; - something that has become a part of _him_. Really, he should have realized what these feelings indicated. It's still early, of course, and they are only a hint of what might happen later, but they are so fairly obvious. And he goes after the spiders! "What's the big deal," someone would ask. Well, for Ron it _is_ a big deal. Sometimes, Muggle girls ask their boyfriends, "Will you kill a dragon for me?" They think it's romantic, you know. In a strange romantics of her own, Hermione could ask, "Will you kill a spider for me?" Yes, he would. For her.

The second one is his patience. Yes, he is quite sharp with her and the two of them are constantly bickering and yes, he knows he call her a know-it-all, but he _is_ patient. His going on with her commands – Merlin knows that she can make her voice sounding as if God has issued his Eleventh Commandment, - his listening to her lectures about this and that, his condescension when she goes on and on about school, essays and stuff should have told him what was going on. Unfortunately, he never asked himself…

The third one is Krum. More precisely, his jealousy of Krum. At the time, he doesn't know it's jealousy and he's supposed to do. He's an expert in jealousy – always being jealous of his brothers, always being jealous of Ginny. But what he feels now has almost nothing to do with his competition against his siblings. Nothing that they have done have left him brooding for ages, sulking and hating them – yes, he hates Hermione, he truly hates her for betraying Hogwarts, for betraying Harry, or so he tells himself. Fred, or George, or Ginny could never make his heart ache the way it does when he hears Hermione tells Krum's name.

All these things should have told him the truth ages ago. But they don't and he's forced to find it out the harder way.

Not that he behaves the right way after making that discovery, far from that. When he looks back years later, he shakes his head at how stupid he has been. As if it were not bad enough with Krum between them, but, being the idiot he is, he just _has_ to put Lavender there, too. Yes, he was furious at the news that Hermione has snogged Krum, of all people – the famous, brilliant, sought out Victor Krum, someone who Ron could never rival, - but how throwing Lavender into the mess helps him? Answer: it doesn't. What does it prove to Hermione, that he isn't s pathetic loser? Answer: that he is a bloody fool. Well, it does prove that he can snog other people, just like she can, but does it make him happy? Answer: no way in hell!

So, there are four people in the poor quadrangle that he creates: he, Hermione, Krum, and Lavender. It's a little _overcrowded_ in there and he doesn't know how to scramble out. And everything is solved by a little poison! If he had known it would be this way, he would have poisoned himself earlier and cut short the most awful year in the history of the world.

Or what he thinks at the time as 'the most awful year'. No, the most awful year id the next one, when they roamed around Britain, hunting Horcruxes, when everything is at the stake. When he leaves them.

Sometimes, he still can't believe that he did it. He knows what Hermione thinks – that it was the Horcrux, that it was not really him. He tried to explain, many times, but she just wouldn't listen. It's so tempting to accept her version. It will calm his conscience, it will make him feel better. But he cannot do it, because he knows. It wasn't the locket, not fully. It was him. It doesn't feel good to know that there was so much envy and aggression in his soul, no, not at all. But he does not try to deny it. Because he's an honest man and he cannot deny the truth. He can only try to live his life in a way that will make the good in him prevail. He must. For if he doesn't, then everything has been in vain. Fred's death has been in vain.

Fred's death… It's still so hard to put these two words in the same sentence. First, Ron has never thought of death as something possible, as something that could happen to him or his loved ones. For many years, death simply isn't part of his life. Even the first time it comes dangerously close – even then it is just someone being Petrified, not dead. He never thinks of the rational chances of survival against dying, even when Voldemort rises again, even that night in the Ministry, even when George's loses his ear. Death – when it's up to him, to his family, to Harry and Hermione – just isn't an option, so he doesn't waste time to think of it.

And then, it's Fred. Fred is vitality itself, just like George is. The twins just radiate life and the joy of being alive. Sometimes, Ron thinks that he can _see_ life flowing through their veins, bubbling in their smiles, evolving in their pranks – sometimes innocent, other times just plainly cruel, but always ingenious. Fred and George are simply invincible… or so he thinks. And then, they are a constant in his life, has been ever since he was born. He cannot imagine life without either of them just like he cannot imagine life without his parents, Bill, or Ginny. Just because they've always been there, brilliant and infuriating and yet, trustworthy when it comes to things that are really important.

And then, suddenly, they aren't there. Yes, they. Because they lose Fred to death and they lose George to pain and grief, and depression. He's never quite the same, but he gradually comes closer and Ron finds out that it's enough. Because it's better to have a part of George than no George at all.

He's afraid for Al. Albus Severus Potter, to be precise. He still hasn't assimilated what were Harry and Ginny thinking, to curse their innocent little baby with a name like this. It isn't only the fact that Ron hates Snape (and he knows Harry does too. His friend may regret his former altitude all he wants, but he cannot delude Ron. It's just guilt, nothing else. Harry hates Snape as much as Ron does, as much as Hermione does. After all the greasy-haired git did to them – how can they not?). No, it isn't only that. The problem is, as un-superstitious as Ron is, he simply cannot help but feel that naming a child after Dumbledore _and_ Snape means asking for trouble. This is a mix, and not a good one. What Gin and Harry wished upon their child, Ron still cannot fathom. No wonder the kid is so strange, so dreamy, so freakingly well-behaved – his parents cursed him from birth.

But then, who is Ron to judge other people's decision about their children? He cannot even understand what he and Hermione did wrong with theirs. How could Rosie – their nice, sensible Rosie – associate with a Malfoy? Well, not associate – Ron is ready to admit that Scorpius is not a bad kid and he really doesn't mind Rosie being friends with him, but getting _married_ to him is just too much! He supposes he shouldn't have been so shocked to hear about her intention, but he is – so much that he cannot utter a single word. Surprisingly, Hermione fills in for both of them. Not that it matters – Rose is _still_ marrying the Malfoy.

And Hugo? What the hell did they do to cause Hugo to turn out against them so vehemently? Ron simply can't understand. There are so many boys who would have been happy to be born to two war heroes, so why does their son _detest_ it? Sure, Ron admits it's hard to be watched and questioned by classmates and reporters alike all the time, but it isn't as if his parents could do something about that. And why can't Hugo just accept the advantages that go with his name? What's wrong in making use of them? Merlin knows that the boy's parents paid more than enough for the privilege of being Ron and Hermione Weasley.

But Hugo won't accept it. He yells, and quarrels, and shows in every way possible that he doesn't care about his parents' fame. He's dangerously close to saying that he doesn't care about all that his parents did, and Ron fears that – the quarrel that made Percy leave home is still clear in his memory and he just doesn't want to think that his own son might say and do the same things that made Ron despise his brother so much.

Fortunately, Hugo never cross the line.

Still, it hurts to see his son rejecting everything they have fought so hard to achieve.

Draco Malfoy is his nemesis. At school he mocks at Ron's family and their poverty, he calls Hermione the M-word, he provokes them and leads them to rage that causes them to lose House points. But this, Ron can – well, not forgive, but put behind him, because now he's a grown-up and he doesn't have to see Malfoy ever again.

And then Rose goes and marries Scorpius! And there is no getting rid of Malfoy now. A few days before the wedding, Ron goes to the bathroom, stands in front of the mirror and says, "Rose Malfoy". Then again and again. Finally, he leaves the bathroom, tired, but sure that he can pronounce his daughter's married name without choking.

5


	15. Lee Jordan

_Disclaimer: Do I really need to write one?_

**As always, thanks to everyone who reviewed.**

Chapter 15

Lee Jordan

Each little boy who has grown up in the wizarding world wants to be a star Quidditch player. Lee Jordan is no exception. He practices much and enjoys any minute of it and really, it isn't as if he is lousy. He isn't. He's even pretty decent. The problem is that star Quidditch players are supposed to be far better than 'simply decent'. They should move fast, have flawless instincts and impeccable aim. In short, they should be everything that Lee Jordan is not. But this realization doesn't hurt. He supposes that he's known it for a while. It's just a childhood dream that goes away along with his childhood. He'll always enjoy Quidditch, but only while playing with friends, or watching professional games, or… commenting! Now, _that's_ a real passion. He is in his second year at Hogwarts, when the current commentator, Marcy Lindon of Hufflepuff, suffers a nasty fall in the lake (damned Slytherins!) literally five minutes before the start of the game between Gryffindor and Slytherin and spends the first twenty minutes of it in the infirmary. There is no time for Professor McGonagall or Madame Hooch to think over possible candidatures, so they accept – albeit quite suspiciously, and rightly so, - Lee's proposal to fill Marcy's place. They don't trust him to be impartial and despite his best efforts to restrain himself, he proves them right. But come on, it's the Slytherins' fault! Really, is there a single dirty trick that these guy's _don't_ resort to? Sometime, in the middle of his magically transmitted over the whole field rant, he notices Marcy Lindon standing next to him and involuntarily clutches the megaphone more tightly, before offering it to her. To his utter surprise, she shakes her head and smiles slightly, before sitting next to him and letting herself be absorbed by the game. It's strange, but Lee thinks that Professor McGonagall isn't as angry as she pretends to be. Of course, it's only his overactive imagination, isn't it?

Since this day on, Lee sometimes fills for Marcy, who needs time for preparing for her NEWTs. And when she graduates, there is no doubt about who the next commentator would be. Oh, Professor McGonagall and Madame Hooch hold the procedure and make an announcement that there is a vacant place, but no one is surprised when Lee wins it, least of all them.

And really, Lee loves commentating not only because of commentating itself, not even because of the game, but because while it lasts, his ever so stern Head of House is something like his co-conspirator. It's true, she tries – more than one time – to take the megaphone off his hands, but she never squeezes hard enough to actually extract it. And she never resorts to magic, where Lee would have stood no chance.

He is so relieved to be Sorted in Gryffindor that he spends his first Feast in something like a daze – he doesn't remember what he ate, what he talked about, and who exactly his new classmates were. When he finally comes to his senses, they are already in the Gryffindor tower – four boys, and one bed too many. Lee counts the boys and then the beds, but the numbers are still not right. "What?" the boy who just enters asks and his freckled face cracks in a grin.

"It doesn't seem right," Lee explains. "There are four of us and five of them."

The other boy stares at him bewildered and then his grin suddenly widens. "You don't remember too much about dinner, do you?"

"Err, no," Lee admits and smiles sheepishly. "I am Lee Jordan," he says.

"George Weasley," the other boy introduces himself. "Do you think you could – What is it?"

Lee does not answer. Instead, he stares at the door where George, whole and cheerful, enters _again_. Right behind him is what will become a rather common sight in the next years – an angry Prefect...

Being best friends with a couple of twins is quite exciting. And when the twins in question are Fred and George Weasley, it's more than just exciting. It's nerve-wrecking. But Lee wouldn't have it in any other way. They are guys after his own heart – positive, cheerful, mischievous and just a touch dangerous. He cannot remember all their adventures and he remembers only half of the detentions – if it is even half of them; sometimes he suspects that it's only a third – that the three of them served together. He couldn't wish for better friends. But sometimes, it stings him – the fact that they will be closer to each other than they are to him. He wishes that he's be able to share the way that their minds work – almost as one. They go through things together and he just goes alongside them. He would have liked to share the experience of growing a long while beard, for one. Or be included in their plans about opening a joke shop. But he doesn't dwell too much in that. It isn't that he forces himself not to mind – it's just the way he is. He appreciates what he has and he isn't the one to dwell on what he cannot have. And this, he really cannot have. To change it would be equal to changing the sunshine or the tidal waves. It's just the status quo. It isn't supposed to change. Never. And Lee hates it when it finally does. Because it isn't the way it is supposed to be. He's never wanted to be George's closest friend – not this way.

Ever since his third year, he has been harbouring a crush on Angelina Johnson. She is clever, she's not easily intimidated, she's an _awesome_ Quidditch player, and she's quite attractive without being all about robes and make up. Really, what is there not to like? So, he likes her. A lot. And he doesn't shy of proclaiming it in front of the whole school, hoping to impress her. Unfortunately, it doesn't work. She seems to think that he's just jesting, The whole population of Hogwarts seems to think that he's just jesting! After a while, he realizes that she'll never be able to return his affections, but he doesn't stop his public proclamations. Because he'd rather joke with that than let himself look like the kicked puppy he feels inside.

Sometimes, he has the feeling that George knows or maybe suspects. Not Fred, thought. Alike as the twins are, there are certain differences between them and one of these small things is that George is just a little more perceptive of other people's feelings. But he never tries to talk to Lee about that and Lee is grateful for that. Yes, sometimes George can be so perceptive.

There is only one time when he really hates the twins… or almost. It's when they take their spectacular leave from Hogwarts. It's their most brilliant, most unforgettable act – and he isn't included. And then, they leave him _alone_.

Since then, things just start getting worse steadily. Lee's second year out of school is the worst one in his life (until a certain battle happens and so many people die in one night, including someone who he has always considered invincible and probably immortal, too): Voldemort takes over the Ministry, his Death Eaters are wreaking havoc in wizarding and Muggle worlds alike, and Harry, Ron and Hermione are nowhere to be seen. Sure, Lee likes being informed, but in this case, he considers every day he stays ignorant a bliss – for the three runaways surely won't take the risk of communicating with them, so the only source of news could be the Death Eaters and Lee isn't fascinated with the prospect of finding out the details about his fellow Gryffindors' capture, torture, death… So, he keeps going. And he's frightened. And helpless. Lee doesn't like feeling helpless. Fred and George doesn't like it either and he suspects they are far worse off than him, because they've got more to lose. It isn't Lee's brother who's running around the whole bloody country with the most searched wizard in recent history.

He does what he can: he fights to ward Death Eaters off innocent people, he treats wounds, and comforts the victims. But it's so little. _So damned little_. One witch here, a single family there. He needs to do something bigger, something more significant. But how?

The Potterwatch comes out almost by chance. One day, he stays with Fred and George and all three of them had given up their cheerful façade – they do not need to hide things from one another. They reminiscence about Hogwarts, and pranks, and games that Fred and George have played and Lee has commented, when the idea suddenly strikes him. "I've got it, guys! It's radio!"

He's beside himself with relief. Finally, at last, he'll be able to do something. Something to cheer up more people, something to help the Order more actively, something that would matter to everyone who let themselves hope. And the fact that he'd do it using a diversity of activity that he has so enjoyed is an extra bonus.

Fred and George stare at him, surprised, and when he tells them about his fresh project, he's delighted to see the first real grins on their faces. Identical, of course.

A few months later, Lee faces the biggest question in his life: is he able to be a good friend? Sure, he and the twins have been good mates for ages, but it's easy to be a good mate when things are good. Now, they _aren't_. George isn't amusing, charming, adventurous, and fun to be with. He's gloomy, drunk, unstable, and Lee is alert all the time he spends with him, because George has staring developing a new habit of jumping from depression to verbal and sometimes even physical aggression. Their meetings always, always leave Lee drained to the last drop. And there is no sign of the situation getting better soon. Or, frankly, ever. For some bizarre reason, George has decided to cling to Lee. He keeps rejecting his family, so Lee is the only one he lets near. And that mean that Lee cannot leave. If he does, it will be forever. It will be a betrayal. But taking care of George – from soothing his anguished cries and sitting in his room until he falls asleep to throwing out the empty bottles of Firewhiskey – is a full time job. There is virtually no free time. Besides, it means that Lee never has the time to grieve himself. Taking care of George means staying collected, so he cannot let Alicia – good friend as she is – help him, because if he lets her near, he will fall apart.

Is he ready to do it? To give up on his own life and feelings just to help George? George, who has never considered him his closest friend, not the way he had considered Fred? Lee isn't sure. One night, after a particularly bad day, he decided that the next day, he just won't go to the shop and yet, the morning finds him on his way there. It seems that he has made his choice.

He isn't the best man on George's wedding – his friend has decided that it would be too much to ask of him. And he's _damned_ right! Because it hurts. Lee's attraction to Angelina has never faded, not really, and it is hard enough to let her getting married, let alone getting married to _George_, of all people, without being forced to prepare a speech, to act happy in front of _everyone's_ eyes and so on.

Not that he doesn't act happy – he does. But there is that moment when Alicia approaches and ask softly, "Do you hate him?", and he follows her glance over to George, and he starts thinking that maybe his secret crush on the bride has not been so secret after all. And when Hermione Granger – Hermione Granger! – thrusts a drink into his hand and gives him a sympathetic look, he starts wondering just how many people in Hogwarts has known about his so secret infatuation.

But George does ask him to be Roxanne's godfather. And Lee couldn't have been happier.

His relationship with Alicia starts almost casually – she's an attractive woman, he's a good-looking guy, they are good friends, and they are both single. There is nothing wrong with being together until each finds the right one, or so she says. It's much later when he realizes that Alicia has never intended to look for the right one – she has just wanted to make him realize that he is the right one. Because she feels about him the way he feels about Angelina, although she's much better in hiding it. But even when he realizes that and starts feeling guilty for not reciprocating her feelings, he doesn't break it off with her – he just can't. She's too much fun to be around, it's nice to wake up to her perfume in the morning and talk to her about everything, except for feelings. He's as excited as a kid when he shares his plans about founding a radio with her. When they enter a bar or a restaurant, people always stare at her and Lee feels the idiotic pride of a man who owns something brilliant, beautiful and extraordinary. Besides, she makes his dinners with Angelina and George bearable. In fact, she makes them more than bearable, because, after a while, it doesn't pain him to see the two of them together, a happy couple.

But he cannot relate these things with love. He doesn't know what he expects – maybe trumpets, dancing trolls and a big red sign reading 'YOU ARE NOW IN LOVE'. He doesn't feel different than usual. It never occurs to him that that is _it_. Love isn't sunshine and lightening, it isn't an exciting moment. It's a gradual thing. Each day he spends with Alicia, he feels a little more content, a little more fulfilled, until one day, he starts imagining what his life will be in five years' time: he'll have his radio spreading over the continent, he'll have a nice flat on the seventh floor – he doesn't know why, but he's always imagined it on the seventh floor. And she'll be there. In his visions, she's everywhere: laughing, talking about Quidditch, making coffee – she always makes coffee strong enough to kill a Hipogriff; he's actually learned to like it – and combing her dark hair. _She is there, in the life he envisions for himself_. All he has to do is ask her to stay. So, he does.


	16. Fleur Delacour

**Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.**

_You thought I had passed away, along with the story, didn't you? Well, I'm back. Thanks for all your lovely reviews and hi again._

Chapter 16

Fleur Delacour

_So lovely, so pretty, so beautiful_ – that's the words she's grown up listening to. She isn't too impressed with them, but she doesn't mind them either – they are just a part of her life long before she can remember. It wasn't unusual for people to stop her mother in the street just to tell her how extraordinarily beautiful her little girl was. Since she _can_ remember, the first thing for people to associate her with is her looks. When she's little, she just doesn't think about that, but well, when she goes to Beauxbatons, things change. She doesn't like it at all when her classmates are surprised each time she actually manages to hold her want from the right side – everyone seems to assume that being pretty always goes hand-in-hand with being silly and she's automatically branded as the second one because of the first one.

Then, of course, there is the small matter with being part-Veela. She doesn't like to manifest it, but anyway, it isn't a secret, meaning that she wouldn't parade around with a sign reading 'I've got Veela blood' on her forehead, but if asked about that, she doesn't lie.

Part of the problem is that no matter how physically beautiful they are and that they fully resemble humans in their physique, Veelas are _not_ humans and there has always been people who are obsessed with the idea about the purity of the blood. Besides, there are people who are not obsessed with it, but who cannot go over the fact that technically, Fleur isn't a human. She isn't Muggleborn, but she isn't human either, that's it. They cannot bring themselves to fully trust her – they always seem to be searching for inner motives behind her everyday behavior. The coquetry that would look normal for any other girls, is attributed to her Veela nature, in Fleur's case. Sometimes, even her friends say things like this – "If you were a human, you would understand." It hurts, but she can deal with it – she knows that they don't mean it, that they just want to spite her in the heat of the argument, and yet she'd rather not have them day it.

Anyway, it's something that cannot be changed, so she rarely lose time to seethe over it, but man, is she seething when she goes shopping with her grandmother and they come across Philippe Breveonet, one of her classmates. He barely notices her – he's too busy staring at – stalking, actually – her companion. That's when the full size of the disadvantage of having a Veela relative falls down on her. What on earth is she supposed to do when she actually acquires a boyfriend? Is she going to have to guard him all the time against _her grandmother's_ charm?

In short, she's fifteen and she's not glad at being part-Veela.

When she goes to England to try for the Triwizard Tournament, she doesn't take it too seriously – well, she does take it seriously, but mostly, she views it in romantic light, like the great magic tournaments that her mother had read to her about when she was a very little girl. Hearing her name being called out is like a dream come true.

Later, anyway, she starts having her doubts. If this tournament is so prestigious, that is because it's dangerous. And dangers require skills. Does she have them? _Of course I do, _she reassures herself_. All teachers say I'm a good student and I was given a chance to compete for the Tournament, because Madame Maximme believes I can manage._ She repeats that over and over again during the breaks from memorizing her textbooks and she actually feels better and yet she's not quite sure.

The discovery of what exactly she is going to face first does not exactly made the situation better, on the contrary. When she thought that the tournament would be dangerous, she didn't mean _dragon_ dangerous! But well, it isn't as if she can give up now and even if she could, she wouldn't have done it anyway. It's a matter of pride, but also a matter of proving to herself that she can do it. Besides, no one forced her into trying out for the Triwizard Tournament. She chose it herself and one has to take responsibilities for their actions.

So she goes and faces the dragon, and wins. Then, she faces the Grindylows and she doesn't win. And she will never forgive herself for letting her fear for her sister to distract and stop her from winning the most vital fight in her life. Yes, it's true that Gabrielle is in no real danger, but that doesn't matter, because she doesn't know it then. And besides, what can guarantee that when Gabrielle is in very real danger, she will be able to protect her?

In the beginning, Cedric Diggory is the only other participant that she truly liked. Harry Potter is just a kid who is too full of himself – although she wouldn't deny that he has some reasons to be – and wants to play at something without realizing how dangerous it is or that there are some skills that you can obtain only by completing – or almost – your magical education, not by defeating You-Know-Who. And Victor Krum is just a lout who thinks that fame entitled him not to worry about details like polite conversations and stuff. Assuming that he knows how to converse, of course, which is no sure things at all.

A single evening – the one after they are all chosen – is all she needs to dismiss them both.

But then, Harry Potter saves Gabrielle and that single act endears him to her for all time. She's ready to do anything for him and the least she can do is to start looking at him with less prejudice eyes and see him for what he was – a nice boy who hated the attentions the others lavished on him, loved his surrogate family – or whatever his red-haired friend's family was to him – and just wanted to do the right thing.

And Krum? As much as she doesn't like it, she finds herself thrown in his company more than once, when she goes to the Hogwarts library to do some research that can help her with her tasks in the Tournament. She comes across him in the corridors. A few times, she comes across him while he's with Cedric Diggory, who is way too nice to everyone, even to first-class gits, consumed by their own fame. And each time they exchange a few words. Gradually, Fleur realizes that he isn't that bad and that his withdrawal and moodiness does not necessarily mean arrogance. If anything, he seems more annoyed than pleased by his fame and success. Fleur actually catches herself thinking that if he hadn't been born with this uncanny talent for Quidditch of his, he might have actually been a nice person. He makes a nice companion when he wants to and he certainly has a very keen senses about what should and what shouldn't be allowed, Dark Lords ruling the world, for instance. She kind of likes him, but she likes him despite his success and not because of it.

As much as she hates to admit it, she knows she did the same injustice to Harry Potter and Victor Krum that is often done to her: she takes them for their fame and their appearances, without even bothering to look what they are really like. And that makes her understand the people who do not understand her better. It's so hard to miss looking under the surface of people when it hasn't even occurred to you that there's more to them than surface.

Some people think that she fell for Bill the moment she saw him and while this isn't completely untrue, it isn't entirely true, either. Yes, she is intrigued with him from the beginning, but it is just that – she looks at him and she likes what she sees, so she looks again and then goes off for her final task, not thinking about Bill Weasley twice – she has more important things to worry about. And then everything goes wrong, and the Dark Lord comes back, and Cedric dies, and she can't think of anything else except for how unfair it is and how Cedric is way too good, way too lively to die and that she's living in a nightmare. This shouldn't have happened, none of it. Cedric is… _was_ a good man, someone who doesn't… _didn't_ deserve to die, but the Dark Lord and the war that he's about to start again don't care about deserving something or not, about being fair and so on. Actually, they revel in unfairness. It is not until years later than Fleur gets to know the exact words the Dark Lord used to dispose of Cedric – kill the spare, he said, and even the fact that there are so many years and so many other dead people between them, she still feels her face flushing with furious anger. Because Cedric was not spare and neither time nor the number of the other victims can make a change. He was not spare.

She doesn't come to England for Bill. She comes to England so she can be in the centre of events, to know what's going on and react to it. She comes for the war, for playing her part in it. She's scared – of course she is, but this isn't about to stop her. She wants to live in a world without fear, without Voldemort, and she knows that this isn't about to be achieved without fight. She wants to deserve her place in this new world by fighting, but this time, she does not suffer from romantic delusions about the nature in this war. There is nothing romantic in the whole fighting business – just sheer necessity. So, with so much stuff occupying her head, there is no room for Bill Weasley – until she meets him again. _That's_ when she starts falling in love.

And yes, it is love. If it weren't, she would have taught that little obnoxious sister of his, along with his mother, their place, before they could do as much as blink. Do they really need to be so demonstrative of the fact that they don't approve his choice? It _was_ painfully obvious. Or do they think she is so stupid that she doesn't know how they avoided her and mocked her behind her back? Either way, she wouldn't spend her life trying to appease them. She makes a few attempts at being nice and when neither Molly nor Ginny return her efforts, she decides to give them up as a lost cause. Anyway, if Bill is going to listen to their opinion about his relationship with her, she'd rather know it now than later. And when she realizes that he won' do that, that he loves her and nothing is going to deter him from spending his life with her, she suddenly feels that his family's dislike cannot hurt her.

Not much, at least. After all, what does it matter if she doesn't get a Christmas jumper from Bill's mother? They are not even skillfully knit!

Or so she tells herself.

But Merlin, it feels good in an angry, painful way to be able to finally lash out at Molly at the hospital wing! She isn't too rude, in her opinion – she can say much more things to the woman, she had gathered them during the entire horrible time she spent in her house. But her anger is nothing compared to her fear for Bill. And then, the strangest thing happens – she falls in Molly's good graces, just like that. Literally in a minute.

Yet, she'd rather preferred another means of achieving it.

The next Christmas – the first holiday she and Bill spent alone – or almost so – as a married couple, there is a parcel for her in the morning. She opens it and actually squeals with delight at the sight of a blue jumper with a big F on it. Not that it is pretty, far from it. But it's one of the most precious presents in her past and future life. It's the proof that she belongs – not only with Bill, but with his family. _Her_ family, now.

Her married life starts excitingly right from the start, when the Death Eaters and/or the Ministry officials make an appearance at the ceremony and they are not exactly in the mood for showering the newlyweds with presents and wishing them happiness. And it goes on just as excitingly.

Not that she'd call it that, of course. It is Fred who does it. Fred, who has called in after one of the broadcasts of the Potterwatch. They are waiting for Bill, drinking pumpkin juice and exchanging news, and getting progressively moodier, because it is all bad news, when he suddenly looks at her and grins. "Look at it from the bright side," he says. "How many brides can boast with such exciting time after the wedding? Usually, they just get bored and fin their life quite dull compared to what they had imagined before."

She manages a wan smile. "May Merlin, Morgaine and whoever else you can think about grant me a day when I can complain of my life being dull."

"May it be so." There is no jesting, no irony in her brother in-law's voice or face – just the same desperate longing that she knows he can see in hers.

She takes it as a gesture of respect and affection that he lets his jolly mask slip in front of her, even if only for a moment – a sign of the closeness that she and Bill's family have finally begun to build between them.

Then, he dies and whatever bond the two might have built dies along with him. Fleur has trouble believing that he's gone – he's always seemed so vital, so alive. _They_ have always been like that – the twins. And now they are not – Fred because he is no longer there and George because he isn't George anymore. No one is the same, but it is most evident with him. He seems unable to built a new personality for him without Fred. And they don't know how to help him. Bill takes it hard, because he's always felt it was is duty to watch over his younger siblings, and Fleur takes it hard because of Bill, as well as because of herself and the other members of their family.

She isn't exactly thrilled when she gets pregnant – things have finally started getting back to normal and she fears that even the smallest disruption may bring them back to the previous situation and that she cannot bear, not after they had fought so hard to scramble out of it. But well, what can she do? Abort her baby?

To her astonishment, the news about her pregnancy – given at the usual Weasley Sunday dinner which has just recently starting to get less moody – seem to be the trigger that brings the happiness back in the family – a happiness that is so complete, she cannot even fathom it. She is hugged, kissed, attacked with questions and plans. Everyone is smiling, ecstatic. And it does not wear down with time. Maybe they all need a happy event to show them that life is still worth living. And she gives it to them. In their eyes, that makes her something of a heroine.

Her whole pregnancy passes joyfully, almost in euphoria for her and, naturally, for Bill. They have all started to heal.

It isn't easy to get used to her life in Britain. Neither as a small kid nor as a student has she imagined that one day she'd live in Britain, she'd work there, she'd raise her kids there. And Even with Bill's unfailing support and love, it's hard – the change is just too great. And the circumstances are far from perfect – with the greatest Dark wizard ever lived on the loose, with her own loving family behind and Bill's disapproving one very much here, with the constant fear that any moment she can be disposed of as a non-human. More than once, she actually thinks about leaving, going back to France. _I cannot bear it anymore_, she thinks, but she can and she does.

Fifteen years later, she looks at the people filling her living-room and smiles: it's just a small family dinner, but the family is so big that it the dinner is small only by the Weasley standards. She's had to do some unexpected last minute work for Gringotts, so she's asked Angelina to come here and do the final preparations for her and her sister in-law did a wonderful job. The adults are talking, the kids are running outside screaming – except for poor Roxy, of course. Fleur's heart aches for her. She loves all these children so much. It doesn't matter that she's not related to them by blood – she feels about them exactly the same way that she feels about Gabrielle's children. They are all family.

She looks at everyone and shakes her head at the thought of ever having imagined living anywhere but in Britain, working anywhere but in Britain, raising her kids anywhere but in Britain.


	17. Minerva McGonagall

_Disclaimer: The same old one._

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. You make my day, guys, you do.**

Chapter 17

Minerva McGonagall

She always assumed she'd be a Ravenclaw. Everyone assumed it. She is so smart, so engrossed in her books and she can even turn her accidental magic into a purposeful one, which is something very rare and require a great deal of mastering her wand – well, it isn't her wand, it's her father's, which makes her accomplishment all the greater. Everyone doted over her and admired her brains and the power of her magic. She's a Ravenclaw born and bred, her parents said, their friends said, the old Griselda Marchbanks who is friends with her grandmother said. Everyone said so.

Everyone but the Sorting Hat, that's it.

Minerva crosses the Great Hall with confident stride, unlike her classmates. She supposes she is bound to be scared, terrified or something like that, but she isn't. Why should she, when she knows where she belongs?

"_Oh, but do you know?_" the Sorting Hat asks.

At first, Minerva is stunned to hear a Hat talking. Then, she thinks the Hat is just taunting her. Then, she reconsiders, because the old tattered thing does not sound in the least as if it were joking…

"Yes," Minerva thinks politely. "I belong in Ravenclaw."

"_Really?" The Hat sounds pensive. "Yes, maybe you're right, but I see a great deal of ambition here, and cunning as well – "_

Minerva is shocked. _Ambition? What ambition is it to want to make yourself known? Or make the world a better place? Merlin knows that with Grindelwald running rampant around we need to make our defences as strong as possible before he came to England._

"_Ah I see you're prone to analytic thinking,_" the Hat mutters. _"You remind me so much of Rowena, you know."_ For a moment, the Hat sounds nostalgic and said, then it recovers. "_But no, Miss McGonagall, I won't place you in Ravenclaw. You are more than suitable for the House and you'd be a great credit to it, but you belong in – "_

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Minerva cannot believe it. _Where did this come from?_ She's never thought of being in Gryffindor, never, never! Secretly, she thinks the Hat has gone senile – if such a thing was possible for a piece of garment, of course. Is it?

For the following years, she's never given any reason to change her opinion. If anything, the teachers are in awe of her brains and abilities that could give every Ravenclaw a run for their money. _She's the smartest witch ever born. We haven't had such a girl since Rowena herself._ That's only part of the opinions she hears that label her for Ravenclaw, send her away from Gryffindor.

Maybe that's one of the reasons she feels such sympathy towards a brilliant, bushy-haired young witch many years later.

She feels an almost immediate bond with her Head of House, Professor Dumbledore. It isn't because of his brilliant research and teaching work… or at least, not much. No, what matters most to her is the fact that he knows what he's doing and he tries to do it in the best way possible. He tries to impart knowledge, but he tries to help his students to develop the best in them, too. He's never too busy or annoyed when she needs to report a problem that she cannot deal with in her Prefect's capacity… or when she wants to discuss with him some sections of magic that are way too advanced for Hogwarts schedule. He is someone who she can trust.

And besides, he teaches _Transfiguration_ – her favourite subject of all time.

Minerva can never bring herself to trust Tom Riddle – the handsome Slytherin a year ahead of her. She cannot explain why. He never did anything to her. On the contrary, he's always deferent to the teachers, to the other students, to Minerva herself. He's excellent in his magic, a brilliant wizard, always polite, always charming. She cannot find even the smallest fault in the way he does his Prefect and Head Boy duties. He even saved the school from the monster of Slytherin (which, in all honesty, saved the school from the whiny Myrtle, although Minerva is disgusted by herself for even thinking it. But well, although she'd never wish Myrtle's fate upon anyone, the girl _was_ annoying.). Why is it, then, that Minerva feels such an urge to take a bath each time after she has been in Riddle's company?

Maybe it is because of his self-control. It isn't natural for any boy to control his emotions all the time, one year after another, almost as if… almost as if he doesn't have any.

After she graduates Hogwarts with straight O-s in all her subjects, she is approved for Auror training. When she receives the owl with her results from the entrance examination, she is with Proffes – Albus, as he now insists that she call him. He smiles and shakes her hand, congratulating her for her success, although, as he says, "I had labeled you for my assistant, Minerva. I think you're natural at teaching."

She isn't surprised at all that he's aware of her tutoring sessions with some of the younger students. But becoming a teacher? Although not without allure, the idea is just not workable, not now. Maybe ten or twenty years later, she'll be glad to confine herself at Hogwarts, impart and gain knowledge. But now she's eighteen and she wants to live in the wider world, be an Auror and gain knowledge.

Besides, if someone does not stop Grindelwald, and soon, there just won't be many children left for them to tutor. Why hasn't Professor Dumble – Albus – challenged him yet? She just doesn't get it.

Her Auror training is not like anything she had experienced at Hogwarts. She flips from practice sessions to theoretical classes and back and her head is constantly being filled with information that even she sometimes has trouble absorbing – it's just too much. As for the practice, there is no making things easier for the trainees or going soft on them just because they feel that they are going to drop down dead, literally. The Auror training is based on screening them and eliminating the ones who are not tough enough, so Minerva is cursed, hexed and jinxed on a daily basis. Sometimes, she doesn't even have the time to go home from the infirmary – she goes there after a practice and when she has recovered enough to leave, it's almost time for the next day classes. She doesn't even have time to read, which, for her, equals no free time at all.

But she makes it to the third year, when things start getting a little easier. She passes her exams with flying colours and she started working for the Ministry.

That's where she meets him. Robert Davies. An Auror – a top one. They work together and they quarrel a lot – he knows how to drive her mad. But he also knows how to make her laugh. A few months after they first met, she moves to his house. She thinks it's her destiny – to be there, to be with him.

Alas, fate does not think so.

Because they don't live in a perfect world. They live in a dangerous one and Minerva and Robert know it better than anyone – they work in the field of this danger. Their job is to protect the world from Dark wizards and their number is increasing every day, while Grindelwald makes his moves. He becomes more and more powerful and he gains followers even here, in Britain. Robert and Minerva chase them, fight them, capture them, and then go home and try to forget about them. The two Aurors often duel and the loser makes breakfast and the winner decides what they're going to do on their day off.

They intend to keeps things this way after the wedding.

But it turns out that there is no wedding.

Many years later, the events of this day are still quite blurred in Minerva's memory. There is a call at the Aurors' headquarters about a large group of Dark wizards is attacking a Muggle family. Their group Apparates there in a minute and cuts into the whirlwind of green, yellow and red lights of curses.

Her next clear memory is waking up at St. Mungo's. Albus is sitting next to her bed. He smiles when he sees her eyes opening. "How are you, Minerva?" he asks.

She tries to sit up in bed, and can't. Her weakness surprises her. She looks at her hand, caught in Albus', and she sees the fading scars brazing it. And then everything comes flooding in her mind. "Where is Robert?" she asks.

Albus is silent and she feels the tears that start trickling on her cheeks.

"You were injured quite badly, Minerva," he says softly. "You've been here for ten days before you gave any signs that you'd wake up, yesterday. I came here as soon as they told me you might wake up today."

"Badly injured – " she repeats, not fully realizing what that meant and not especially caring, either."

"You took a few Stunners, as well as a blood-heating hex, combined with a paralyzing jinx and a few minor curses. But you'll be all right. " He falls silent. "You lost the baby."

She feels that her heart has stopped beating. "The baby? What baby?"

"You mean you didn't know?" Albus asks, surprised. If he had known she wasn't aware, he'd never have brought the subject up. "Minerva, you were going to have a child in less than seven months."

She stares at him, unable to utter a word. Two weeks ago, she had Robert, a wonderful career and a child on its way. Now she no longer has Robert, she won't have a child, and although she doesn't know it yet, her career has lost its allure to her. She's lost it all.

After she leaves St. Mungo's, she keeps working – she needs to do something, so she wouldn't go mad. And Gridelwald is still at large, stronger than ever, so she fights his followers and his crazy plans for world domination. But when Albus defeats him, she no longer has a purpose. She resigns, much to the horror of her superiors, and starts filling the awful emptiness in her life with the one cure that works best for her – gaining knowledge. There are so many things that can be learned. She reads insatiably – about Transfiguration, goblin wars, magical creatures, and she finds comfort in the fact that she'll never run out of books. She is fascinated with Animagi and when she isn't writing one of the researches that she supports herself with, she's working on becoming one.

She loves being the cat.

Then Headmaster Dippet resigns and Albus takes his place. He immediately invites her to replace him as a Transfiguration teacher and she accepts the offer – it isn't as if she has anything better to do with her time, so she'll do with teaching until something better comes along.

She has no idea that there _isn't_ anything better.

It's quite strange to return to Hogwarts as a teacher, but it feels good. She soon discovers that it gives her immense pleasure to impart knowledge and see the students grow from terrified first years to grown and mature wizards and witches. Of course, there are men now and then during the holidays – she's a young woman, and not an unattractive one. But despite her episodic relationship, her greatest passion is teaching. And despite her façade of a fair and impartial teacher, she feels fiercely protective of the students from her own House. Not that she'd ever say it, of course, for Merlin knows that these kids does not need yet another reason to think that they can fight a troll and end up winning. Because, somehow, every single troublemaker in this school has found their way to Gryffindor. Or almost every single one.

When Albus tells her that they're going to admit at Hogwarts a werewolf, of all things, she thinks he's barking mad and she tells him so. Everyone knows how dangerous the werewolves are. Bloodthirsty, maiming, vicious, killers – and Albus is ready to expose the children to _that_?

He tells her that the werewolf in question is a child, too, but she only stares. A child? Werewolves are not adults and children, they are just elder beasts and cubs. And a wolf cub can be quite dangerous by itself. Even Albus' reason that he's met the boy in person and he can guarantee that there won't be any unpleasant surprises, does little to stop her worries, but well, Albus is Albus and she should trust his judgment, so she does. And yet, she cannot stop herself from being alarmed by Lupin's very proximity, as if she waits for the wolf to manifest itself, although she's aware that it won't happen without the full moon.

It's quite the shock for her to realize that her fears have not been based on the voice of reason, but rather on the voice of prejudice.

She has a soft spot for the infamous Marauders, always has. They are bright, they are brilliant students – well, except for Pettigrew – and they make her laugh, although she lets herself giggle at their creativity only when she's alone. That's not to say that she doesn't punish them. She does, because they deserve it. At one time, she actually amuses herself with the thought of proposing to them at their professional consultations to start a Marauders' Cleaning Service – they have such big experience with scrubbing the castle by hand.

And yet, she has one thing in mind about them. They go too far and there is no way that she can explain that to them. Playing pranks is one thing, but constantly humiliating your classmates, destroying the homework they had worked the whole weekend to write, making them laughingstocks at regular basis is quite another. She can punish them – and she does, - but she cannot make them understand. _They are not practicing Dark Arts_, she reassures herself, but deep down she knows that their neglect to anything but their own amusement is almost as cruel as that.

She realizes she's been right in the night of the infamous 'prank', when Sirius Black almost kills two of his classmates – Severus Snape through the werewolf, Remus Lupin through the Ministry's sentence for killing a human. She's so livid that she'd gladly expel Black upon the spot, but unfortunately, there is no way of chasing him away without revealing Lupin's secret. Oh he gets the most memorable detention of the year – three hundred House points lost, a Quidditch ban for the rest of the year, and detentions that left him returning to his dormitory only for sleep, but Minerva still thinks it was not enough. She knows that he has demons of his own, she knows that he never meant for anyone to die, but to her, this is no excuse, as it wouldn't have been for the tribunal that would have sentenced Lupin, had Potter been a bit slower. The very fact that a Marauder – a Gryffindor – a sixteen years-old boy is capable of such a deed, _no matter what_, is terrifying. Although she tries very hard not to show it, she cannot feel the same fondness of Black anymore. Her disappointment is too big.

Maybe that's why, years later, she actually believes that he's betrayed James and Lily. The man has already proved himself capable of betraying a friend, of doing something only slightly better than a Dark curse, so why not make the final step?

When Albus dies, she feels dizzy not only with grief, but also with fear. She has relied so much on him. They all have. But she has no time to be afraid – she must act. She must protect the students from the Death Eaters that seize the school. _What an unusual way to show my bravery, _she sometimes thinks in the rare minutes she's able to steal for an actual rest._ When I was young, I thought the way was to fight the Dark side with my wand; now, it's more like waltzing around them when my hand itches for a good hex._ And she's way too old for waltzing. But she keeps doing it because of the children. They need protection from their new teachers who spectacularly lack in brains and talent, but have cruelty in abundance. If she didn't already know how bad things were, the fact that she actually missed _Dolores Umbridge_ would have been a dead give-on.

And to think that she had thought it couldn't be worse, when the incompetent toad-woman was parading around the school, tormenting the students and undermining Minerva and Albus' authority!

One of Minerva's most treasured memories will be Dolores' face after their exchanges, when the stupid toad couldn't think of anything to say.

When the battle starts, she is actually relieved. At last, she's doing something. She's so tired of being watchful and diplomatic, and passive. Finally, it's going to end. And it really does. But she never wanted such an end for those who died fighting.

Sometimes, she still has trouble believing that Fred Weasley is dead. In a way, it's harder for her to accept his death than those of James and Lily. Because James and Lily were targeted and she knew that it could happen to them. Fred, on the other side… she has always pictured the twins doing something crazy, disrespectful, and highly amusing on her own funeral. That would be their way to show their fondness of her. Instead, she stands next to his coffin and stares at his face, imprinted with the smile of his last joke.

It just isn't right.

After the war, she puts a great effort into helping rebuilding their world. It isn't easy and she isn't that young anymore, but well, she's a Gryffindor, and she's Professor McGonagall and Hogwarts just wouldn't be the same without her _and_ Dumbledore. Besides, her vocation is still teaching.

She is sorry that she won't be here when the new generation of Potters and Weasleys enter Hogwarts, but she'd rather not dwell on that. After all, she's still here and she'll be here for another five years. Or maybe six.


	18. Sirius Black

**Disclaimer: None. I don't need one, you already know who I am and who I am not.**

_Thanks for all your reviews, you do ins__pire me._

Chapter 18

Sirius Black

James is like him – that's why they are friends. James is unruly, wild, brilliant and always up to no good. They are determined to set a record of their own for mischief and punishment, to be remembered. And that is, to be remembered for _breaking_ rules. Finally, Sirius is not alone in his delight of doing whatever. he is forbidden to do – no one else in the Black family shares his disregard for rules. It takes him eleven years to finally find a kindred soul! James. That's why Sirius likes him.

Besides, James is loyal and Sirius has always appreciated loyalty.

Remus is quite another matter. He's so quiet and withdrawn that initially, Sirius doesn't even dislike him – he just doesn't notice him. And the same goes for James, too. They make a few attempts to get to know him better, but he doesn't reciprocate. Well, they don't take it too hard – they have much more interesting things to do than losing their time with a boring kid who doesn't know how to hold a conversation together and who is not interested in being with them. Besides, Remus is always reading a book, sometimes even two at the same time – in turns, of course, he is not reading them together; he's not _that_ weird – and he usually starts doing his homework the day it is assigned. Freak. Besides, he is so well-mannered that it just gives Sirius the creeps.

If not for Peter, in all probability they would have never learned more about Remus than his name. But Peter, strange as it is, somehow manages to form a friendship not only with Sirius and James with their wild temper but with Remus, too. Well, maybe it isn't so strange after all. Whiny and officious as he is, Peter is quite patient – a virtue that neither Sirius nor James possess. He keeps trying to engage Remus in a conversation and finally the other boy gives up. Peter then starts including him in their group of three and Sirius is amazed to find out that Remus is far from boring – he's smart, talented, brilliant in inventing pranks and he has a secret. Which makes him worthy for Sirius' attention. Perfect to be Sirius' friend.

That's the only thing he will ever give Peter credit for. Incorporating Remus.

Peter… Well, Peter always needs help and protection. The fact that he can provide them makes Sirius feel better about himself. That's why he likes him. And Peter is loyal… Sirius has always thought so until one night in 1981, and then it's too late to do something to correct his mistake.

He can't stand his family. Absolutely loathes them. He doesn't share their views, their pride of their heritage or their values. "Oh I simply hate them", that answer is always ready to his lips. He says it with a smile, casually, and repeats it in his head more forcefully, secretly hoping that if he say it often enough, it will become true.

Because it isn't.

He doesn't hate them. True, his behavior or the lack thereof, his admission to Gryffindor, of all things, his refusal to share their views do not endear him to his parents, nor their formal attitude and mulishness endear them to him, but it isn't like they mistreat him or anything. They try to do what they think is best for him and even when he's at his most rebellious sentiment, he knows that. He simply refuses to accept it. Because he knows it isn't the best. But they will never see that, so he can never make peace with them. His running away? He's fed up with their old-fashioned pureblood ways and he knows he cannot leave these ways behind without leaving his family behind. It isn't so hard: he just packs his things and leaves, never looking back. After that, his life becomes easier. Less complicated. Maybe even happier.

Still, he avoids meeting Regulus at the halls of Hogwarts. Because the inevitable fight will bring up a pang of pain that he so passionately denies that he feels.

He tells himself that his parents' decision to disown him should show him how they feel about him. In a way, it does. But why, oh why they never make it legal? It's all talk about disgrace and blood-traitors. Just take no legal actions to ensure that he won't inherit any part of Black's fortune. They still hope that one day, he will come back to their family and what they considered to be the right views. But he's not coming back. Never. Because he hates them. Or so he tells himself.

He isn't sorry for the Prank. Not really. He is sorry that Remus no longer trusts him – that he _made_ Remus lose his trust in him. He is sorry, more than he can express with words, for throwing Moony into the same pit of self-contempt and fear of the wolf in him that he has spent years dragging him out of. He is furious at himself for risking Remus' safety on a whim. Merlin, if he had bitten Snape, if he had killed him, he would have been tried and sentenced, and executed like a bloody animal! Sirius knows that and he has known it even while sending Snape down there. His quick temper, his inability to think, his tendency to place his own matters with people before everything else has simply obscured his better judgment. And Remus is the one who almost pays the price. Having once regained his clear thinking, Sirius cannot stop beating himself over it. And James is there, always ready to helpfully remind him what a loser he is, just in case Sirius forgets. Sirius has never seen Prongs so livid, and rightly so – he _has_ exposed Remus to a fate that is cruel beyond imagining.

Sirius is incredibly sorry to see Remus building his defenses of distance and isolation that keep everyone away – not only Sirius, who deserves it, but James and Peter too, and they certainly do not deserve it. James has saved the day, after all! He is ecstatic, when Remus finally starts to let them in.

But he isn't sorry for endangering Snape's life, although he tells Moony that he is – he'd tell Remus everything to gain his forgiveness. True, at the end of the day he'd never send anyone to their death and he certainly wouldn't have sent Snivellus, had he been in his right mind, but… come on, even if the wolf had managed to have a snack, it's only Snape. It isn't like he would be missed.

In their seventh year, he watches with amusement and condescension at the new, changed James. The improved James, as Professor McGonagall would undoubtedly say. Sirius doesn't agree. This mature James, the Head Boy, Lily Evans' boyfriend – Merlin, Sirius could never see _that_ coming! It's a good thing he didn't make a bet on it – is becoming boooring. No fun at all. But he's happy. Sirius is ready to forgive Lily for changing James, because she makes him happy. And Merlin, they need every piece of happiness that they can get! The war is still raging in the outside world that awaits them. That's why Sirius is so happy with Harry's arrival – he's a piece of happiness that will _stay_.

Unfortunately, with Harry comes the prophecy. The hope. The danger. And the traitor. Remus.

When Sirius thinks about that, he feels sick to his stomach. How can Moony do such a thing? How can he betray them? Of course, he knows the answer to that, doesn't he? Why should Remus be loyal to a world that rejects him? A world that does not value him for his intellect, his nice temper, his talent with the wand, but for his bad luck to encounter a werewolf when he has been all but a child? Is it fair that someone like Remus should live in poverty and misery, because the world doesn't want what he can give to it? Is it fair that the Auror Department is thrilled to have Sirius and James to tutor, while Remus, who bested them both in Defense, could not even think of joining? Is it really so hard to understand why Remus has turned to the things Voldemort promises the werewolves?

No, it's easy to understand. But that doesn't make it easier to bear. Or less disgusting, for that matter. Sirius tries to stay out of contact with Remus as much as possible, because he's afraid that one day, he'd lose control and make the accusation straight at Remus' face, and they need to be subtle. They need for Remus to think that they still trust him while they are making their smart move. Not that they are very good at it: Remus certainly knows that they suspect his treachery, because neither of them is a good actor.

Sirius sometimes wonders if their move is really so smart. Because what if Remus isn't the traitor? James seems too uncomfortable with the whole affair, because "Come on, Sirius, Moony is as likely a traitor as this turkey in my plate. The guy doesn't have a treacherous bone in his body," Lily shakes her head, unable to believe that Remus is capable of such a thing, but unwilling to put Harry's safety at risk, and there is a little voice in his head that wouldn't stop twittering, "_What if it isn't him? What if it isn't him_?" But who else could be the traitor they seek? Peter? Ha! As if Voldemort would lose his time with weaklings like him! But someone _is_ the traitor, and it must be Remus. No one else fits.

So how can he not feel guilty for James and Lily's deaths? He's the one who convinces them to use Peter as a Secret Keeper. As Remus says many years later, "James and Lily were adults, Sirius. If they trusted me, they just wouldn't have taken your advice about Peter. It isn't your fault," but it is, really. He's the one who's made James and Lily distrust Remus. They wouldn't have even thought about the possibility of Moony being the traitor if not for him. He's made them spent their last days suspecting the wrong man. He's made Remus live with the knowledge that his friends have suspected him falsely. And he is supposed not to feel guilty? Not likely to happen.

When he watches Harry, Ron, and Hermione, he feels like looking in the past. They make a perfect circle: the leader, the loyal, if too temperamental friend, and the studious voice of reason. Just like three other kids he remembers. But these three doesn't have a Peter tagging along: whiny, untalented, always seeking protection. It's good, because they don't need him, but then, James, Sirius and Remus have never really needed Peter either. He's never been one of the Marauders, but they've been too blind to realize that. Now Sirius' eyes are wide open. And he's happy for these kids: they have a better chance to make it, because they only need each other and they know it. There is no room for a traitor in their midst.

Being stuck in Grimmauld Place is almost too much for him. As a child, he's always said at Hogwarts that his ancestral home was a ruin, but now it's literally true. Dirt. Cobwebs. Creaking All sorts of insects. Boggarts. Kreacher. His mother's portrait, showing him that his earlier opinion of his mother being insane has been, in fact, pure lack of imagination. He shudders at the thought of just how crazy she has obviously became in her last years. Regulus' room. "I hated the little idiot," Sirius remembers telling Remus fifteen years ago, "but I never wanted him to die." Now, he thinks that he has wanted Regulus to die. That's what Death Eaters deserve. He needs his hatred. He needs something to cling to, otherwise he'll go as mad as his mother's portrait.

But living here is better than living outside as a dog. At least there are people here. Harry. The Order members. Remus. He's so tired of being alone.

He's shocked to realize that he now _obeys_ Moony. When Remus tells him to sit down, he sits down. When his friends prevents him from talking to Snape, he doesn't leave the house. He still doesn't understand why he does so. Where this new authority of Moony's has come from?

Maybe it has something to do with the Wolfsbane Potion, with Remus' newfound feeling of control. Sirius hates this stuff – the potion, not the control. Sure, it's wonderful for Moony to finally have something that helps him keep his mind while transformed, but it isn't so wonderful for Sirius. Because the invention of the potion means Remus no longer needs him. Moony no longer needs Padfoot to keep him in check. The very thing that has always made Sirius feel special, needed, no longer existed. He hates feeling useless – for Remus, for the Order, for Harry – no, not Harry. He cannot let himself being useless to his godson. Maybe one of the reasons he grows even more obsessed with Harry's safety is because he is no longer needed from Moony's. Really, the damned bloke who invented the Wolfsbane Potion should be Crucioed! The same goes for Snape when, while delivering the monthly vial one evening, he makes a movement as if he'll drop it. No matter how Sirius hates this stuff, it's still Moony's medicine and Snape is not entitled to rob him of it.

He is immensely lucky to have Remus for a friend and he knows it. Not many people would put up with his grumbling, his dark moods, his sarcastic remarks. Not to mention forgiving him for something that is unforgivable. But Remus isn't like most people. He can overlook even Sirius' suspicion that he's been the traitor. And yet, Sirius feels that no matter how close the two of them have managed to become, Remus no longer needs him the way he has needed them at Hogwarts. It isn't only the Wolfsbane Potion – for thirteen years, Remus has been building a life for himself in which he no longer needs anyone. He has been forced to – he hasn't _had_ anyone, so he's learned how to be self-sufficient. Simply because Sirius is back, that still doesn't mean that Remus needs him. There is a wall that he isn't allowed to take down. No one is, although Sirius hopes that given enough time, he will be able to pull it down. He suspects that Tonks hopes for the same thing.

He tells Harry that Tonks' mother is his favourite cousin. He lies. Sure, he admires Andromeda for her courage to be the first one in their generation to run away and have the life she wants to live, for being clever enough to see how rotten the Black family values are, but that doesn't make her a true favourite. He'll never admit it, but his Bellatrix is his favourite. It isn't a rational feeling and it isn't something that he's proud of, but it's a fact. He loathes her wholeheartedly and yet he cannot bring himself to fully hate her, although he knows she deserves it. Because they are too much alike: passionate, stubborn, hot-headed, excellent with their wand in hand. She's been his idol as a child. He still remembers her teaching him to do magic with her wand, taking him for a ride on her broom, babbling about Hogwarts and Slytherin. He remembers their mock duels. He wants to forget, but he can't. They've been so close. He hates to admit is, but she's his mirror image – talented, brilliant, and ruined by Azkaban. A mirror image is an exact replica of the original, only reversed. That's the way they are. The same virtues and the same weaknesses, only directed in two different paths.

It's like a game, their duel. Like the mock battles they've always picked with each other. But this one is real. He's finally in the real world, doing something real! He laughs with joy. And then, he starts falling. For a brief moment, he sees her the way she's been years ago, on the last family dinner before he ran away. So young, and terrible, and beautiful. Then, he sees her as a nine-year-old, with a stick in her hand, 'dueling' him in the garden of Grimmauld Place 12.

Bella has won this time.


	19. Alicia Spinnet

_Disclaimer: All is Jo's. _

**No, I haven't dropped dead, as some of you might be inclined to think. I just had too little time and too many stories to keep up. Here I am, in this one.**

**Thanks for all your lovely reviews. Unfortunately, I rarely have the time to read them in time and answer immediately, but I really treasure each one of them.**

Chapter 19

She doesn't have any memories of the attack that took away her father's life, or her own stay in St. Mungo's – she was only four. Her eldest brother, David, would not talk about it, although he must have some very clear memories, being almost eleven at the time, so she'll never know. She only knows that they were one of those targets that the Death Eaters loathed most – a witch married to a Muggle, with three half-blood children – three abominations, in the Death Eaters' eyes – born by the union. It happened a few days before Voldemort's defeat – oh the irony!

Then, they had to move out of their house to a smaller abode – something that her mother could afford. When she grows older, Alicia realizes that it must have been harder for David than it was for Jay and her – they were too young to appreciate what they had lost. They soon forgot.

Her mother is not the most talented witch in England. She's mediocre – just an ordinary woman with no great ambitions. There is nothing wrong with that, but it's one thing to be an ordinary witch who has the support of a husband and lead a normal ordinary life, and quite another – to be the only one responsible for three kids. She's always tired, always worried about them and concerned that she doesn't have enough time to be with them – she has to work, if she wants to be able to feed them.

Alicia is about five when she screams her head off because her mother wouldn't buy her a toy broom. She doesn't care about the price, or that her mother doesn't have enough money to afford it. The only thing she wants is it – the toy! And she fills the whole Diagon-Alley with her wails.

David often tries to explain to Jay and her that they should be good, that Mummy is busy or tired, that they don't have money for this or that, but they don't want to listen. They cannot understand. They are too young.

She doesn't have any memories of her father either. She has only flashes of blurred images and a male voice that makes her feel safe. Sometimes her mother talks about him and Alicia loves listening to her. But the most wonderful stories come from David. He tells them how their Dad used to take them to the zoo, how he carried them on his shoulders, and how once he had taken him to the observatory, so he could touch the stars. These stories make Alicia go to bed filled with longing and dream about the blurred face and the calming voice, before waking up to her mother's constant worries about joggling with money, so that she could afford their school stuff and new clothes.

Nine years pass before she finally hears a male voice in the house again – confident, filled with joy. David's voice. "Mum, I found a job! Mum, now everything will be easier."

In the beginning, she's mad at Fred and George. And she envies them. She envies them, because they _have_ each other and they are together, while she and Jay aren't. Sure, she knows that in a family with one Muggle and one wizard parent, the chances that the child will be a wizard or a Muggle are equal, but still, why did it have to be them? She and David are magical and Jay isn't. Why isn't he? He is her twin, for God's sake! It's logical that they'll be magical or Muggle together, but now she's at Hogwarts and he's at the local school in their hometown. It isn't fair! And it isn't as Fred and George deserve the gift of not being separated. She seriously doubts that there is a single student in the school who had been spared by their dirty tricks. Alicia finds herself bald, glued to her chair in the Great Hall, being forced to create stupid verses until the spell wears off on a regular basis – all thanks to them! And they are so stupid that they really believe themselves funny and ingenious. Well, they aren't!

Lee is the one who un-glued her from her seat in the Gryffindor common room one night, when she had just reconciled with the idea of sleeping here. She, however, had not reconciled with the idea of not being able to go the loo, so she's very grateful, when Lee silently lifts the charm and looks away. "They don't understand," he says awkwardly.

"Oh I think they do," she hisses angrily, but she's angry at the twins, not Lee. To Lee, she's grateful. And when the next day he quietly shakes his head, dissuading her from eating the cream that it turns out makes one sprout boils all over their body, she officially decides that Lee is her savior. He's her knight in shining armour – or rather, in Hogwarts robes that regularly grow too short on him.

Fred and George are not this bad, once you got to know them, and she does, when they form a cozy little group – she, the twins, Lee, and Angelina. They are walking trouble, of course, but they are loyal, they are funny – when they are not trying to show it on her expense – and they can _fly_. She'd never trade them for other beaters, although she'd trade Oliver Wood as a captain without hesitation, given the chance. Well, maybe she won't, but he is a monster and that's a fact. A very talented monster, but a monster anyway, although she politely – or maybe cowardly? How very un-Gryffindorish of her! – refrains from pointing that out to him. The tyrant that he is! She's sure that she'd have Oliver Wood-related nightmares long after she graduates.

Then, Angelina takes over the team and she is just as bad as Wood. No, scratch that: she's even worse! Alicia just can't believe her eyes. For the time they spend training, her best friend, whom she had giggled and joked Oliver's fervor, is gone, replaced by a Wood's clone. Unbelievable! Maybe it goes with the job – every new captain of the Gryffindor team being worse than their predecessor? Whatever the reason, for a while the relationship between the two girls is quite strained. Angelina seems to think that Alicia is angry because of what she considers just a jest on Lee's part – his often proclaimed attraction to Angelina. Ridiculous! As if Angelina knows something at all – if she did, she would be aware that it isn't a jest or a joke. It's real. Lee really harbours a crush on her and she has no idea! And she is as dumb as to assume that Alicia is jealous – _jealous_ – because of that! It's nonsense. Alicia is furious because Angelina is turning into a tyrant and besides, she hurts Lee without knowing –

- but perhaps she would be less furious, if Lee stops making moon eyes at Angelina.

She absolutely loves being at Hogwarts. True, there are Professor Snape and Potions, but there is Professor Flitwick, there is Quidditch and so many other things. She would never trade Hogwarts and she thinks that being a Hogwarts student is the best thing that ever happened to her.

But she hates the drift that being here creates between her and Jay. True, they write regularly at each other and they are always aware of the important things that happen in their lives, but it isn't the same as being together the entire time, like they would have been if he had been magical, too. Like they should have been.

She sometimes wonders whether he hates her, or David, for having something that's completely out of his reach. Sure, he never gave any sign of such a thing, of envy, of malice, and he looked entirely happy in his own school where he was the best at the fencing club – but was that enough? Or maybe she was just projecting her own feelings onto him? It must be very strange for him, to be the only one without magic, the only one – besides their long dead father – who actually uses all Muggle devices in the house. Alicia used to make use of them, too, but after being in Hogwarts for so long, she just gradually uses the knack of them. And she finds herself every so often actually having to make an effort to act Muggle-like in front of her brother's friends – had they really drifted so far apart?

One day, they happen to go through her Hogwarts pictures. He laughs at the photo of the Gryffindor Quidditch team – her Quidditch obsession is as bizarre to him as his obsession with fencing is to her. Then, his laughter suddenly stops. "Who is that?" he asks.

Alicia looks. "Oh that's Katie. Katie Bell. She's a fellow Chaser, a year younger than us."

"She seems really nice."

She looks at him. "Do you think so?"

He nods and obviously feeling that he had said too much, resumes looking through the album. Alicia barely contains her laughter. Katie is the first girl Jay had ever said to be 'nice'. Of course, she is also the first girl who doesn't chase him, 'cause she doesn't know him at all. In Jay's opinion, that probably makes her safe.

Then, Voldemort is back and suddenly nothing and no one is safe any more.

She cannot believe that the Ministry won't do anything. Are these guys aware that protecting the wizard society is a part – the core – of their duty? Obviously not! They seem convinced that their duty is to prosecute every sane person in England for saying that the Great Evil is bad, strengthen their power just because of power itself and hand the control over Hogwarts to the toad woman. Alicia never believed that they could make a worse choice for a DADA teacher than the previous ones, save Professor Lupin, but they prove her wrong. Hence, Alicia is one of the students who regularly get inflicted with Umbridge-tiss. Together with Lee, she's the one who arranges some strange meeting for her – generally, with some creatures that are not exactly friendly.

After her seventh year, things keep getting worse. She actually longs for the days when she had Oliver Wood-related nightmares. Now, she lives in one, Voldemort-inflicted and worse than anything that she could have imagined.

They come in the night. The moment she hears the voices outside, she knows it's them. No one else would bother to get down the defenses of David's house.

Alicia jumps from the sofa, grabs the little Suzanne and runs upstairs. Jay follows, carrying Tony. They rush in the nursery and place the children in one bed. Fortunately, neither of them wakes up. They have no idea of the danger that they are in.

"Stay with them," she orders Jay, because what can he do against spells, jinxes and curses?

"Is it them?" he asks in a low voice, and she nods.

"I'm staying with you," he states, and Alicia has no time to argue. She locks the door of the nursery from the outside, then secures it with a few spells and rushes back downstairs, hoping to get to the front door and strengthen the defenses before the Death Eaters had a chance to break them down completely.

She is not successful. Despite all her skills, despite how fast and resourceful she is, she soon sees the door falling crumbling down and the dark-hooded figures entering her brother's house. Five of them. Too many. And she is all alone, save Jay, who would be no help at all. _And the children, of course, let's not forget the children._ They exchange looks and nod at each other. There is no need to talk. They'll do their best to protect the children. David and Sarah left the little ones to them to babysit and they will protect them from everyone. Or die trying to.

Later, she doesn't remember exactly what happened. All is a blur – the multi-coloured flashes from the wands, the curses hitting her, the pain, her own voice shouting spells that she is never supposed to use, and curses that goes under the label of Unforgivable… And some other flashes – not coloured, but whirling white. The flashes of a rapier. Unable to do magic, Jay deflects the curses in the only way that he knows how – by intercepting them with his training blade, so they would fall upon the mirror, the coffee table, the fireplace… Which infuriates the attacker – a _Muggle_ trying to fight them off and _succeeding_. But not for long, Alicia can see it. Both she and Jay will die here, like their father did many years ago, and then the monsters in human form will go upstairs for the children. They can only postpone the inevitable.

And then suddenly they are here – a tall black man, a blond-haired woman and, surprise of all surprises, Fred and George! And Katie! They lose no time in attacking the Death Eaters, who immediately try to Apparate away.

"Oh the wretched cowards!" Alicia exclaims, knocking the wand out of one's hand to stop him for making escape. "They weren't so reluctant to fight when _they_ outnumbered _us_!"

It's all over in less than five minutes. Two of the attackers dead. The other three captured, although where they would be taken, Alicia has no idea. Surely they can't mean to take them to the Ministry which is completely under Voldemort's thumb?

"I think he needs treatment." Fred says.

Alicia follows his look and freezes. Jay lies on the carpet, not moving and maybe not breathing at all. Beneath him, a red river is spreading. Panicked, she looks frantically at the others. "What – "

"He needs a healer," the dark-skinned man says calmly.

"No," Katie speaks out. "It looks worse than it is."

She is studying to become a healer, so she must know what she is talking about. Alicia looks at her friend who goes to Jay, points her wand at him and mutters a few words, stops and then starts casting another spell. And another. And another.

It works. Jay's wounds close. His blood stops flowing. His face regains its usual complexion. His eyelids flutter and his eyes wander around. Then, he looks at Katie and smiles at her. It is just like a fairytale.

"Come on," the dark-skinned man says. "We don't have much time."

That is the night Alicia first meets the Order of the Phoenix. And she finds herself being dragged straight in the middle. It is not a question of choice – what else can she do? Stay close home and wait for the others to do the job? Sure, that's exactly what her mother wants of her, but she cannot do this. What if everyone shirked away their duty and wait for the others to make the world a better place where he can live happily ever after? It doesn't work this way.

So, they get together again – she, Angelina and Katie, the twins, Oliver, and Lee. But this time the stake is far better than winning the House Cup – only three years ago, Alicia would never believe that she would hear this out of her own mouth. It's for survival. They help the attacked, they try to second-guess the Death Eaters, they speak on the Potterwatch. And they get together at every chance they have – not because they have so much to talk about, but because they find comfort in the each other's company. Maybe this will help them brush through this without getting mad.

This is the time, when – much to her horror – Alicia realizes that she might be actually attracted to Lee. Who, unfortunately, is still attracted to Angelina. It's like a bad Muggle movie – a girl liking a boy who likes someone else who in turn likes someone else and so on… These things do not happen in real life! And they most certainly don't happen during a raging war. Alicia absolutely refuses to let it happen to her. Really, what is her problem? Lee is attractive, but many guys tend to be so. He is funny and charming, but the twins are even more so. He is nice and he cares about her – and what of it? Why couldn't she fall for someone who is single or at least, doesn't fancy another girl who just happens to be her best friend? Why does it have to be Lee? What makes him so special? What makes him the one? She isn't sure. But he is. The one. Her one.

He just doesn't know it yet.

The Battle of Hogwarts will forever be the worst memory in her life, by no comparison. But it is not a clear memory. She mixes the events of the whole day – before the battle and during it. They will forever hunt her like nightmares. Like ghosts.

Oliver Wood, dragging a lifeless body in the hall – the body of a boy she had seen in Gryffindor tower, but had never bothered to ask his name. Why hadn't she?

A giant's hand closing around a frightened girl who screams and tries to wriggle her way out, before her skull breaks with a horrifying clicking sound.

Fleur Weasley who is combing Angelina's hair in front of the mirror, just before they are summoned to Hogwarts. The methodical strokes, the glossy hairs, Fred shouting that they should hurry up. The perfume that Fleur wanted to give her as a remembrance of their Girls' Day– something floral.

The bright green light flashing out of her own wand, hitting a dark-hooded figure and sprawling it dead. Sure, he is a Death Eater, but anyway, she _murders_ him.

Harry Potter's body hanging limply in Hagrid's arms, in the middle of the destructed Hogwarts. The school is no more. The Chosen One is no more. They have lost.

Katie laughing, jokingly saying her that no, when it's all over, she would date Jay _despite_ Alicia being his sister and not _because_ of that.

The laughing and dead face of the one who she always thought could outsmart, charm, evade Death itself.

The next few months are the hardest time in her life. It isn't fair! It was not supposed to be so! They should be happy, and they can't. They still haven't come to peace with their losses. But then, how could they? It isn't like losing your favourite broom, or even your house. It's losing people – people you loved and cared about. And it happened everywhere. So many families lost loved ones.

Alicia cannot bring herself to truly believe that Fred is dead. Not even when she sees his body. Not even the day after the battle, when Lee and George approaches her – without Fred. Not even when she cries her eyes out at the funeral. Even in her darkest anticipations, she never dreamed of losing Fred. She never imagined that she, Angelina, Lee, and George will have to live without Fred.

It is hardest for George, of course. The Weasleys and Lee are those who are fully aware of his condition, and they wouldn't discuss it with anyone else, even her. But she doesn't really need explanations. She has eyes and she sees how poorly he is. How poorly Lee is. George is clinging to him and that burdens him with his friend's grief, as well as his own. She desperately wants to find a way to help both of them, but even the most loving support cannot do a miracle. Even the strongest spells cannot bring Fred back.

All she can do is being there when Lee needs her to be, so he can find strength to be there for George the next day. It isn't anything special: he comes to her flat unannounced, grey-faced, and drained, she makes some supper, they talk about casual things, but they mostly keep silent. She turns on the radio, finding some relaxing music, and they sit on the sofa, slowly relaxing. Sometimes he talks about George, other times he doesn't. He often spends the night in her flat, on the sofa in the living room, and they take turns to wake each other from the nightmares which she honestly fears would never fade. (They do. But not quite.)

When George and Angelina finally get together, she's furious. Not so much at Angelina, though her friend has her fair share of anger, as at George. How dares he! Angelina doesn't know that Lee's feelings for her are real, but George does. Alicia doesn't know why she's so sure. She just is. Female intuition. George knows and yet he dates Angelina. How can he do such a thing to Lee? Alicia used to wish for a guy who can keep Angelina's interest, so Lee can finally be free from her, but she never imagined that the guy would be Lee's own best friend. The same George who had shared everything with Lee for ten years. The same George who almost drove him mad while Lee was trying to help him stay sane. Is that the reward someone deserve after all these years of friendship? Hardly!

She tries not to make her feeling apparent, for she doesn't want to make either Lee or Angelina feel uncomfortable, but George must have noticed something.

"Listen," he starts one day, when they find themselves alone, waiting for the other two, "I know what you must be thinking – "

"Do you?"

The icy tone takes him by surprise. "Yes. I know I'm a bastard – "

"Indeed you are."

"But she'll never be interested in him. She never was before. It'll be the best for him to finally accept that."

"So you started wooing the girl he fancies just to take him down to earth. How very considerate of you."

The sarcasm makes him blush. "I – I just – "

In this moment, Angelina comes to them and Alicia never gets to hear the end of the phrase. Not that she wants to anyway. In the years to come, she and George mend the dent on their friendship, but now she's just too angry.

On the day of George and Angelina's wedding, Lee gets drunk – something that he does very rarely. But now he really needs it. And somehow, his level of drunken desperation and her long hidden feelings lead them to waking up together, in the mess of blanket and sheets. And while Lee is gazing at her with a sleepy smile – he knows who she is, but he isn't awake enough to think, so he just acts on his feelings – that he's glad to have her here – she makes a decision. She proposes him a casual relationship. Just temporarily, she says, but secretly she means something else. And in the next few months, she knows she was right. She's sure that she likes her, that he is delighted to be in her company – in and out of bed. She sees the way his attitude to life changes – his life revolves around her and he likes it this way. Without him ever saying it, she can feel how his attraction to Angelina slowly melts and fades. There is only one woman for him – Alicia. He just needs to realize it. She's ready to wait.

She has to wait for two years, but it was worth it.

Happiness is always worth it.


	20. Angelina Johnson

_Disclaimer: Jo owns it all._

**I'm sorry for being so incredibly late. But at least I'm back, so I hope that maybe you won't be too disappointed with me.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I really appreciate it, even if I don't have the time to write a reply in time.**

Chapter 20

Angelina Johnson

There is a belief that young wizards and witches meet their best friends on the Hogwarts Express, so Angelina expects her first journey with a great trepidation. She can barely wait to board the train… and when she does, she suddenly wants to leave it, to go back. Hogwarts is a whole new world – true, a fascinating and exciting one, but still new. Unknown. She wouldn't admit it, but she is suddenly scared – scared of leaving, scared of starting a new life entirely on her own. But she has to, so she lifts her chin and her luggage and starts looking for an empty compartment. At least, that's what she keeps telling herself. Actually, she's looking for her new best friends.

She doesn't find them. Each time she tries a compartment, it turns out to be overcrowded or occupied by some quite unpleasant-looking characters. Finally, she has to look not for friends, but a place to spend the long hours of her journey. She is really disappointed and quite despairing when she enters the great hall.

Her Sorting and the following feast are kind of blurred in her head. She supposes that she talked to her new classmates, exchanging basic information, but she really can't remember much of it. But the memory of the next morning is clear. It remains – it still remains – warm, and golden, and hers, one of the pearls of the past that she will cherish forever. She remembers waking up early and finding her way to the Quidditch pitch. She wants to see the most important things today.

And they are there. All of them – two red-headed boys who look completely alike, a dark-skinned one who is a head taller than them and a girl who Angelina vaguely remembers as one of her dorm mates. Alicia. They talk about Quidditch, other things, and Quidditch.

Really, who came with this misleading cliché that one meets their best friends on the Hogwarts Express? That is not true. Not always. If you have any doubts, ask Angelina Johnson.

Her best friend has always been Alicia, by no competition. True, they are good friends with Fred and George, and Lee as well. And yet, there is something in her friendship with Alicia that is deeper, more meaningful – no, not more meaningful. Just different – and more natural – and – Yes, more meaningful.

That looks quite strange to her. She isn't used to being friends with a girl – she's always preferred running wild and boys are just better at that. She, on the other hand, is not good at being overly girlish. True, she liked playing with dolls, but her dolls inevitably ended flying on brooms, dueling, or chasing Quaffles. Other girls' games bored her and she soon grew tired of them.., and the girls themselves. Honestly, Alicia is the first girl that she doesn't find boring. That's because her fellow Gryffindor is enamored with Quidditch, just like her. During these first weeks, Quidditch makes most of their conversations. Gradually, the number of topics increases and Angelina realizes that being a girl does not necessarily means being boring. It takes her only a few years.

She has learned to enjoy being a girl when Fred asks her out. She doesn't have any daydreams about everlasting love and 'they lived happily ever after' – she knows that he isn't into her. He isn't really into anyone and neither is she. They give it a chance, though, just to see whether it will work. They want it to. But it doesn't. They are really better off as friends.

Until she takes over the Quidditch team, that's it. Her friendship with Fred and the others doesn't change… much. But she can no longer complain together with them about how crazy Wood is, she cannot murmur about the early practice, she can't share her fears that they might lose to Ravenclaw or – Merlin forbids! – Slytherin. A captain should always look optimistic. A hard thing to do. She could hear the others fretting at her, claiming her insane and that her new position has turned her head. She can see them suddenly stop talking between them when they see her coming, and it hurts.

On the other hand, she is not exactly pleased with them either. She just cannot fathom how she could have never noticed how unreliable, crotchety, and selfish they were. Alicia could spoil the practice for everybody just by her neverending complaints that she was too sleepy, or that she hurt here or there, or that Angelina should have really time the practice for another evening and not the one before their Transfiguration test… The same went for Fred and George, of course. Even Lee would sometimes look at her and say, "Easy. Angelina – " Lee, who basically thinks her a goddess! They couldn't see that they are the problem and not her! She really feels for Oliver Woods now and she sometimes wishes that she could just apologize to him for being too hard on him. Being a captain is not nearly as shiny as she thought only a year ago… especially with Umbridge's kind help when she finds herself lacking Beaters and a Seeker.

Then why doesn't she quit? Why doesn't she say, "It's over. I cannot stand that any longer. Professor McGonagall, take this badge back and give it to someone else, someone who can handle the job'? Why doesn't she say it in the beginning, when she realizes that it drifts an edge between her and her friends? Or later, when the team is practically maimed?

Because she's a Gryffindor. She might not enjoy every challenge, but she won't turn it down when it bites her in the nose.

Thanks Merlin that she and the others have been friends for so long that their relationship is able to overcome the strain.

After her stormy last year at Hogwarts, the next two years of the war pass more or less uneventfully – uneventfully in her private life, that's it; in global aspect, the second war against the greatest dark wizard ever born can hardly be called uneventful. If anything, it's _too_ eventful. She takes various jobs, spends time with her parents, rebuilds her friendship with Alicia, Lee and the twins. Honestly, it seems quite dull compared to her time at Hogwarts. And yet, there is a tension beneath everything that she says or does – the tension of not being sure, of living under a threat. So she's almost relieved to receive the summoning through her DA coin. Sure, the twins can just visit her at home, but they think that the coin is more appropriate. They want her to become a member of the Order of the Phoenix. So does she. But it is not enough – all they do is not enough. The Death Eaters are stronger, that's the simple truth. That's why she's so excited at going to Hogwarts for the last battle –at least she can take part in what's happening, at least she can make a change. And she does. She, Alicia, Katie and Lee, Oliver. Fred and George. And so many others. Some of them do not live long enough to realize that they did make a change and that thought makes her shiver even years later. Just thinking that they might have died in despair, thinking that they were fighting for a lost cause is enough to make her want to scream.

She doesn't go to Fred's funeral. She can't – she's too ill. It is not dangerous, but it is painful anyway. She cannot believe that she got away so easily – there are so many dead, so many gravely injured. And during the first days, she cannot really appreciate it – the infirmary is a place of grief and suffering and she lives in it, as well as in the middle of her personal hell. _It isn't possible, _she thinks at learning just how many victims there were_. It should not have happened._

So she misses the funeral. She never says it and she would have gone, had she been able to, but she is actually relieved at not having to be there, to see it happening. It's too hard on her and seeing it would have made it real. Yes, she knows that it is real, regardless of her witnessing it or not. But she doesn't care. It would have made it real and that's it.

She doesn't see George often during the next few months. He had shut them all out – except for Lee. She isn't happy for that, she feels rejected, but acknowledges that he has the rights to do so. She would have shut the others either – all but Alicia. Alicia is her special friend. George's is Lee.

They go back to being friends months later, when they had overcome the worst of the aftermath. But not all of it. At least they can function normally. Of course, there are still good and bad moments. Sometimes Angelina gets scared that George will never get over the bad moments. Sometimes, just one word, just the timbre of a stranger's voice, just one look at the mirror is enough to send him back to depression. But it is not as bad as before, Lee assures her and she believes him. Lee would never lie to her. Not for something this important.

Then, one day, when she goes to his shop, she finds that he has a companion – as he is quick to assure her, only for an hour, since Harry, Ron and Hermione were summoned elsewhere. The companion is tiny, and friendly, and he has _blue_ hair. Angelina's first reaction is the horrified thought that George has left him unattended and he has somehow managed to get a hold of one potion or another. Then, she realizes who he must be and almost laughs at her concern.

"This is Teddy Bear," George says proudly. "Teddy Bear, say hello to this gorgeous lady."

Teddy holds out his hands and she takes him. He giggles against her shoulder. "He is not a bear," she tells George. "He is too thin to be a bear, and he has no fur."

"Too thin?" He sounds affronted.

"Too thin to be a bear."

"Oh. But you don't really find him underfed, do you?"

She actually giggles at that and thinks that his concern for Teddy's well-being is really touching. "No."

In June, a year and a month after the battle of Hogwarts, they are invited to Katie's birthday party. By this time everyone knows that they are a couple. It's a wild party and many people leave soon after midnight, but she and George stay, dance, and have fun until four o'clock in the morning.

The wounds have started healing over.

When she finds out about Lee and Alicia, she is quite shocked by her own reaction. She is ashamed to realize that she's, in fact, quite aggravated. She has become used to constantly being the centre of Lee's attention – or at least, his speeches and witty remarks. It's nice to be adored, even if it isn't for real. But in the long run, she is happy for her friends. It is very important to find the real one, as she knows from her own experience. It feels good to know that Alicia and Lee had.

She would never admit it to anybody and she's so very ashamed that she hates herself for thinking so, but she isn't sure she loves her daughter. At least, not the entire time. She has never planned to be a stay at home mum, but there is no other choice. It's always Roxy this and Roxy that, taking care of her, giving her one potion or another, stopping her from getting exhausted and she sometimes feels that it's too much. Sometimes, she thinks that she spends so much time worrying over Roxanne that she just doesn't have the time and energy to love her, to be glad and grateful for having her.

That's her most guarded secret.

She has never thought that she'd have problems adjusting to her in-laws, but that's a fact. It is easy to like them, when you're just another one of Fred and George's friends, but being George's wife is quite different. Her own family is a loving one, but it isn't as expansive as the Weasleys. She finds it hard to draw the lines of her own elbow-room and guard them against their – Molly's, mostly – good intentions. She meddles a lot without even realizing it and that irritates Angelina. When Roxanne is born so frail and ill, things become worst. Molly is just as overprotective as Angelina and always has ideas about what they should or should not do about Roxanne, she always asks too many questions about her treatment, she is always there to take care of her when they visit, often before Angelina herself has had the time to do it. Angelina feels inadequate and criticized without words, Molly's very competent behavior berating her as bad mother without her mother in-law saying even a word. From time to time, Angelina has the feeling that Molly wants to appropriate Roxanne. Logically, she knows that she's being ridiculous, but she cannot stop herself from feeling this way.

She doesn't know what caused the change. It did not come at once. But it did, little by little, and Angelina can finally relax and feel confident. This feeling is second only to the relief when her daughter's final treatment turns out to be effective.

She can finally let her guard down and be happy. This time, for real.


	21. Bill Weasley

_Disclaimer: Me? Just a poor fan. Therefore own nothing._

**Hurrah! It did happen! Finally I've got both inspiration and time for this story, can you believe it? For I surely can't.**

Chapter 21

Many years later, he still remembers the fear. At the time, he didn't recognize it as such. As a child, he only knows that his parents deny him everything. He cannot leave the yard on his own. He cannot go outside unaccompanied, even to see a playmate in Ottery St Catchpole. He cannot make a step aside from his mother when they are shopping in Diagon Alley. He cannot do _anything_ and it's so unfair. It feels like everything his mother does is restraining him. And he's sure she does it on purpose. Just to spoil his day or making sure that she has a helping hand with all these kids that just keep coming.

He cannot link his being limited to stay home with the weariness clouding his father's face when he comes back from work, or his mother securing every door three times and checking before letting someone in. He cannot relate it to all these conversations his parents hold in a low voice, so that children wouldn't hear. Sure, he knows they are afraid, but he cannot make the connection between the two things.

As he grows older, he is faced with reality. With the idea of You-Know-Who and the vigilance they all need to survive. _Vigilance? It's fear_, he realizes and that makes him feel bad. Even then, at the tender age of eight, he knows that there is something deeply disturbing by the idea of hiding, instead of fighting.

Years later, he can see that his parents' fear had nothing to do with their own safety and everything to do with their children's. But at the time, he worships his uncles Gideon and Fabian, who are so funny and witty and who _aren't afraid_. Every visit of theirs leaves the Burrow energized and happier. They can make even his always weary mother laugh and while they are here, Bill doesn't need to worry about Fred and George doing something crazy, dangerous and _not funny_, no matter what these toddler troublemakers think – they are always sitting timidly with their u8ncles. All right, maybe not so timidly, but they are there. No need to lose your time looking for them. Gideon and Fabian make the war look exciting, great, actually – so different from the constant fear Bill lives in.

It's a shame that those who did not fear the war had to die in it.

Bill cannot imagine his life without any of his siblings. He is blessed to have them. However, sometimes being a big brother is a little hard. All right, quite hard. He cannot say whether he chose to be a role model, or his parents pushed him into it, but it's a fact. He cannot do anything for himself, he always has to take the other six in mind. He has to help his mother caring for them physically. And while he doesn't mind all over, sometimes it's too much. There is a reason why Charlie is his favourite, not that he would ever admit it in front of anyone. Charlie is an equal. A comrade. Someone he doesn't need to be responsible for, someone whose company he can just _enjoy_. No strings attached.

Besides, the others come in his life quite late and he is forced to get used to them. With Charlie, there is no such issue. Not only can't he remember ever having lived without Charlie, but for a long time, he really doesn't believe that he ever has.

At Hogwarts, he fits effortlessly. He is a perfect student and it isn't hard since he knows how to divide his time between different priorities. With six younger siblings, he would have gone mad long ago if he hadn't learn how to do it. Long before he became a Prefect, he was one of the authoritative students in Gryffindor common room. He doesn't know how to do it. Maybe that, too, came with being the eldest Weasley boy: he is used to enforcing his authority without actually enforcing it. And he is well meaning to everyone – well, maybe not Slytherins.

During his first year, he feels severely homesick, but at the same time, freedom makes him feel intoxicated. He is free from his role model function; he is free from his mother's expectations. He can be whoever he wants to be. Later, he would realize that he _wants_ to be a role model, the caring big brother, the perfect student with just a streak of independance. But if he hadn't had these two years at Hogwarts alone, he might have never known it.

And yet, he had never thought of finding a job here, of settling here. Has he always wanted to run away? He isn't sure. But when he thinks about it years later, he realizes that he had never once considered his future in Britain. Even on his career counseling, he says without thinking and without hesitation, "Oh I want to work somewhere abroad." He doesn't specify what career he would pursue. Professor McGonagall gives him an odd look, but fortunately, she doesn't say anything. Tactful and wise, she just directs him towards a career that she considers the best for him. Actually, it turns out to be the most awesome thing imaginable. Yes, Minerva McGonagall is one heck of a teacher, understanding her students far better than is required for a Transfiguration class or even for the normal functioning of Gryffindor House.

Why does he want to escape? He loves his family, no doubt about that, but they are just too overwhelming. He feels that he can never be a man of his own unless he separates himself from them. He must have always felt it, even when he was little: he would hide with a book about the adventures of brave wizards in distant lands and pretend that the other eight who would turn the house – and his head – upside down didn't exist.

It takes him a long time to realize that Fleur isn't welcome into his family. He is so happy to have her that it never occurs to him that others, mostly his mother, do not feel the same way. Fleur is intelligent, a bit stubborn – now, that is something that he's used to, because his mother is the same and Ginny already gives indications that she'll be of that ilk, too – and so beautiful that months after starting dating her, he sometimes catches his breath at the sight of her. He sees the way men look at her, both in and outside Gringotts. She is constantly asked to a date by numerous men. Bill is proud to have won her over them. They can talk about everything. He simply cannot imagine that she and his mother have nothing to talk about. Sure, he might have noticed that on family dinners, no one addresses Fleur, but that suits him just fine – this way, he has her all for himself. And maybe, just maybe he doesn't see it, because he doesn't want to see it? Because seeing it would equal to admitting that there is a problem and frankly, after Percy's leaving he just isn't ready to risk raising another uproar in the family if he can avoid it.

When Fleur doesn't receive a Christmas Weasley sweater, though, he can no longer ignore it. His mother does not approve of Fleur and has no qualms showing it. Fleur gets the message and reacts defensively. These are the facts, pure and simple.

Bill cannot get it. What's wrong with his mother? Why doesn't she trust him to make his own choices? He wants to talk to her, to make it painfully obvious that Fleur is the only reason that he is still around. Well, maybe not that he's still around – he would have stayed anyway, because he felt it was his duty to fight Voldemort, even if he died in the process – like his uncles had. But Fleur is the one he is ready to settle with. To settle _for_. If it wasn't for her, he'd leave for Egypt as soon as they win the war, and never look back. Surely his mother should know this and be pleased with Fleur for making him stay. Unfortunately, that isn't the case. Worse, not only does she demonstrate complete disrespect to Fleur but she lets Ginny do the same. Sometimes, Bill is very tempted to sit down, throw his baby sister on his knee and give her a good spanking, something he had thought reserved only for Fred and George until they grew too tall for it. But it wouldn't fix the problem. He had to address it with his mother and despite being all independent and so on, it's still damned hard to tell Molly Weasley what to do. She just wouldn't accept it from her children. He tries, but she doesn't get the message. Too bad for her. He is not going to lose Fleur for something like that.

His mother doesn't know that he had silently given her a term to show respect for his choice: if she didn't do it until the end of June, he would give her the cold shoulder.

Ironically, it is Fenrir Greyback who does this job for him.

His scars doesn't bother him… much. True, he experiences a real shock to see himself in the mirror for a first time after that fateful night, but he is too stunned by other things to pay real attention to that. Really, some scars? He might be infected with some aspects of the werewolf curse, _Albus Dumbledore is dead_, the Light has lost its leader, the perspectives are as dark as they come and he is supposed to worry over some minor scratches… bites… whatever? Come on! Besides, Fleur doesn't care. Why should he?

It isn't always easy, of course. People stare at him, he gets glares, he gets children saying "Mummy, why is he like that?" Sometimes strangers actually flinch at the sight of him. Of course it hurts. But the hardest part is hearing the whispers behind his back, "What does a woman like her finds in _him_?" If he got a Knut for every time he heard that, he could buy Firebolts for half the Quidditch teams in Britain! But well, it isn't as if he can change something about that. With time, he loses interest in his scars because Fleur has lost it long ago.

The wound in his heart, in the place where Fred used to be, closes much more slowly. Actually, he isn't sure it has closed at all. Sometimes he thinks it is. He sees the sky, he hears his children's voices arguing about silly things like whose turn it is to clear the table – no magic included, they are still underage, - who ate the biscuits and who had spilled ink over Victoire's new dress. He breathes the salty air of the sea, he looks at Fleur, still as beautiful as the day he married her – and he thinks "It was worth it." And then, at a family gathering at the Burrow, at George's shop or actually, at seeing a set of twins, any set of twins, and the pain comes back. Was it worth it? Sometimes he thinks it was, other times he thinks, _No. Nothing could worth this much_. The only constant thing is the wound that might feel healed over, but it isn't. It has bled too many times for Bill to keep the illusion that it ever would.

Three children. Three is perfect for Bill. It's perfect for Fleur, too. And the fact that they just happened to get the greatest three there were is an added bonus. But even if they were less great – or infuriating, for that matter – they would still settle for three. Grown up in a big family, Bill cannot imagine having only one child and Fleur, thanks to Gabrielle's late arrival, had experienced much loneliness, so she, too, wants more than one. But they cannot imagine having seven either! Big family is not only good and wonderful and downright fantastic, it has its flaws, too, and Bill isn't ready to deal with these. Besides, he and Fleur are not like his parents. Times change. They are a modern couple and Fleur needs her job, her friends. She is not as maternal as his mother. She is a woman who needs to dress prettily and go outside, she needs time for herself and quality time with him – and that is impossible having too many children in the house. She needs to do things outside. Being a mother isn't enough for her and that suits Bill. Besides, if he wanted a conventional woman, someone more like his mother, he shouldn't have proposed to a participant in a Triwizard Tournament, let alone part veela, right? That is part of the attraction – that she is so different from the other woman who is important in his life. He enjoys having a wife who is as much as a woman as she is a mother. Fair deal.

He's never been good at detecting romances. Oh he sees Victoire sighing after Teddy for years, but that's hardly something he _can_ fail seeing. He doesn't catch the beginning of their romance. Or the middle. He is very grateful that Fleur opens his eyes, otherwise he might have learned from the wedding invitation!

He detects the sparks between Al and Isabelle, though. These were something even he could not _not_ see, so he cannot take much pride. _But there is something warm and fuzzy when you see two people you love finding their way to one another, especially when you are there from the beginning to see their progress, _Bill thinks at the day of their wedding. Then, he shakes his head. _Not becoming sentimental now, am I? Must be the old age_.


End file.
